


Selkie

by tambrathegreat



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-14
Updated: 2012-06-18
Packaged: 2017-11-07 18:33:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 10
Words: 29,162
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/434107
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tambrathegreat/pseuds/tambrathegreat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lucius Malfoy searches for the perfect moment from his relationship with Severus Snape.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Ugly Little Boy

**Author's Note:**

> I do not own Harry Potter or any recognisable characters. I make no money from this endeavor.

It is said among the older wizards, winkingly, and with more than a few leers, that the first magic in humans came from couplings between mankind and the tribes of Fae. Malfoys were most noted for their resemblance to not only the few Veela that emigrated from France during the Roman occupation of Gaul, but also the fair Dani that still lived in England in shy retirement. Malfoy would scowl and sneer at the utterance just as his father had taught him, and yet he would still be unable to deny the possibility

. His mother was a bit fey and prone to flights of fancy, but that may have had more to do with her lot in life than her heritage. Lucius straightened his robes, dusting off specks of imagined dirt as he made his way to the Hogwarts express. It was his final year and he was Head Boy. Full with the knowledge of his own importance, he barked at the miserable creature who brought his trunks behind him. "Hurry on, Gribli, I mustn't be late."

The house elf bowed while pulling with a mighty grunt on the overstuffed trunk. Lucius merely kicked at it to make it move faster. He watched in lofty disdain as the younger students boarded the train, their shining faces and awed expressions irritating him in the same vague way that the house elves' fawning servitude did. The only one of the younger students to catch his eye was a weedy dark boy, who slouched against the side of an ancient trunk. The boy wore carefully tended secondhand robes, but his shoes were more scuff than polish.

Lucius thought him an odd dark spot in the sea of bright wizarding plumage which milled about him like dancers on the stage. The little boy watched a redheaded girl almost covetously as she made her goodbyes to her obviously Muggle family. The boy's mother stood to the side, her dark, sallow looks an echo of the boy's. Lucius recognised her as the blood-traitor Father had pointed out to him in Diagon Alley when they had gone to collect his school supplies one year. She had been dressed in the same worn and faded togs that day as she was today. Lucius sniffed dismissively and turned his back on the filth.

He boarded the train, managing to scare several third year Hufflepuffs out of the carriage he wanted. Rabastan and his odd brother joined him, along with sycophantic Bella. Lucius wondered if he was to be treated to the same sexual show that he had when he left Hogwarts last term. If so, he would put them all out on their arses. None of them bathed well enough for him to endure the smell of their exhibitionism. When the three started speaking of things best left out of hearing of the Hogwarts staff,

Lucius feigned sleep. He needed time to recover from his father's latest lesson. He let his legs fall open, easing the burn in his lower back from the beating he had received just that morning for being late to breakfast. He had only been tardy a few seconds, but father had lashed out, bringing his cane down repeatedly on Lucius's back until he could no longer hold in his cries. Mother had looked on impassively, eating her toast and sipping her tea placidly, as if nothing untoward occurred before her. She had learned to do thus early on in her marriage, lest Father's wrath fell on her.

When Father left for his offices, she had taken Lucius to her chambers and eased his bleeding with dittany, a few healing charms, and soft words. She knew better than to heal her son completely. Father would expect scars for the effort he put into schooling his son. She had shyly handed him a soft white shirt and kissed him in her ghostly way before she sent him through the Floo. Lucius thought that when she died it would not be a great effort to part her soul from her body. Father had killed her spirit years before Lucius was born.

&*&*&

The Sorting Hat put the dark boy in Slytherin. Lucius clapped politely as he sat, not really seeing him as he turned his attention to Narcissa Black. Father had already arranged for his marriage to her upon completion of her last year of schooling. She simpered as she flashed the rather large diamond ring that had been a portion of her bride price to the numbers of envious girls seated beside her. She batted her lashes coquettishly and took Lucius' hand. He did approve of his father's choice. Narcissa was a fine specimen of pureblood womanhood. She was decorous, lovely and satisfyingly subtle. What more could Lucius really ask for in a woman?

He disentangled his fingers from hers as the Old Fool began his standard welcoming speech. She affected a pout, but her pain at his withdrawal did not reach her eyes. She was a consummate actress, his future wife. She had to be to suffer through his father's embarrassing attentions. Lucius had no doubt that his father would taste her wares well before he did in their marriage bed. It was the way of Malfoys, or so his father said.

When the food appeared, Lucius happened to glance down the table at the dark boy. He sat poised, as if he would flee, as the older students who surrounded him filled their plates with food. The boy's black eyes shifted between the food and his empty plate before he picked up a small piece of roast and placed it delicately on his plate. His bruised, bony wrists extended past the frayed and greying cuffs of his shirt as he picked up his knife and fork. He cut a tiny piece of the roast, placing it in his mouth and chewing it meticulously before he swallowed. Lucius watched the delicate jerking of his throat, suddenly arrested by the pale beauty of the boy, with his solemn dark eyes and translucent parchment-coloured skin. The boy turned his gaze to Lucius, a sneer marring his features, making him appear older and much more unpleasant than a boy his age should be. Lucius' gaze fled back to his own neglected plate, suddenly hungry for something he could not name. Lucius was haunted by that moment for years.

&*&*&

During the next weeks, whilst Lucius held court in the Common Room, he was aware that the dark boy watched him from the shadows. Young Severus Snape, it seemed, was as much a part of the underworld of Slytherin society, alone and ugly, like poor Vulcan toiling away at his furnace, as Lucius was a major deity in the constellation of Slytherin luminaries. Malfoy tried to dismiss the boy as dirt, a half-blood, and beneath his notice, but the truth was, the boy unsettled him. Lucius liked order, regularity and uniformity. The boy was an ugly snarl in his life, and Lucius went out of his way to avoid him. Still, the boy watched as if he were weighing Malfoy with his Stygian eyes. Lucius could not help but feel that he, at least in the boy's black gaze, had been measured and found wanting. That was a new feeling to Lucius amongst his sycophantic peers, and he found over the weeks that it both irritated him and intrigued him.

Lucius was attracted to the boy, as the opposite poles of lodestones attract to each other. He found himself seeking the boy's approval when he spoke, when he flew for the Quidditch team, or when he studied. The boy's silent, weighted stare compelled him for the same reason his father's more brutal tactics did. Lucius needed approval. He was, at his core, the little boy whose father rebuffed him brutally for crying over his dead kitten, killed as a punishment by Father for a minor infraction committed by the Malfoy scion.

Lucius also recognised in the boy the same hunger for approval without the means to achieve it. The boy was homely to all but Lucius, who saw in him some spectre of lovely kinship.

It was when the disgraced Black, with his Gryffindor placement and blood-traitor friends, started his campaign of terror against the boy that Lucius finally spoke to him. He found the weedy boy in an abandoned classroom one night on his rounds. Snape sat huddled in on himself atop a desk, drying blood on his face, his eyes red-rimmed and burning with hate. Lucius recognised the surface emotion, but also saw the underlying architecture of the boy's defeat.

He wore his victimhood like he wore his secondhand robes. Lucius, in his fascinated state, stared at the small boy whose shoulders had straightened under the older Slytherin's scrutiny. Blood littered the boy's greying shirt and trousers and spilled over his school robes, discarded on the floor like a selkie's skin. Lucius unaccountably wanted to take the boy in his arms and sooth away the hurts as his had never been, he wanted the boy to don his damnable robes and flee from Lucius in fear, he wanted to kiss the boy's thin brow and sooth away the pain in both their breasts. He did none of those things.

"Snape." Lucius said, the sibilant word hissing through the quiet of the room like a knife through flesh. The boy's black eyes met his and Lucius was once again drawn to him. He traversed the stone flagged classroom, his boots ringing on the flooring as he crossed. The boy merely peered at Lucius rather than cringe in fear at Lucius' intrusion, or worse, fawn and blush at Lucius' proximity.

They sat together atop the desk, Lucius' expensively shod feet touching the floor, Snape's scuffed shoes, still and together, hanging above his. The dark boy was not the typical firstie, fidgeting away under Lucius' scrutiny with spare energy and no grace.

Lucius bestowed a frosty expression of commiseration as he asked, "So, young Snape, what happened to you?"

"Why do you care?" His vowels were atrocious and hard, his face pinched and ugly.

Lucius wondered fleetingly at his fascination with the weedy lump of clay. He merely answered, "I am Headboy."

The boy made a noise of disgust in his throat, quelling any desire that Lucius might have had to ease his pain. It was just as well, Lucius had enough of his own left untended. Instead, Lucius stood. "There is a duelling club that meets on Wednesdays. I expect you to be present at the next gathering. You will not disgrace Slytherin with your inability to protect yourself."

Lucius rose and made it to the door before he heard the boy's monotone reply. "Thanks."

Lucius inclined his head in a gesture of munificence and left the boy to repair himself and get back to the Common Room. It was almost curfew and Lucius would give him no quarter if he were late.

&*&*&

Lucius observed the ugly little boy for the rest of the term. He was fascinated by the boy's hitching walk, his subdued manner, and his quiet intelligence. On the few times Luicus was able to talk to him, he instructed Snape on the ways of the upper-crust, his drawling intonations noted and subsequently copied by the boy's quick mind.

Yule came and Lucius went to Vienna with his mother, Father having decided at the last minute that the office needed his presence. Lucius rightly interpreted this state of affairs as Father needing time with his current mistress. Mother accepted the news blithely and with little more reaction than a crease of her brows. Father mentioned that there would be a New Year's party and Lucius was expected to attend with Narcissa. Mother was to stay on the continent until later.

Lucius had a feeling of foreboding at this last announcement.

They spent nearly a fortnight in Vienna. When it was time to return, Lucius bade his mother farewell in his typical manner, a courtly bow over her hand and a kiss above her knuckles. She stopped him, breaking from her spiritless mould for the first time in Lucius' memory. "No matter what happens in your life, son, know that I will never love you any less. You are everything a mother could want in a child."

Lucius was shocked to silence. He stared at her. "Mother, is there something you are not telling me? Is it father? Has he asked for a divorce?"

"There will be no divorce, Lucius." Another frown creased her brow, deeper and more despairng. "Now, you must be off. That lovely Miss Black will not appreciate having to wait for you."

As Lucius stepped into the Floo he thought he saw tears glittering in his mother's eyes, but he was never sure.

&*&*&

It was after the official party, when Narcissa had left with her over-reaching family, that Lucius was taken aside by his father and led down to the dungeons. Lucius quaked. The dungeons had been the scene of many of his more painful lessons at his father's hands. Lucius bore all the scars on his legs, buttocks, and back.

Father had not seemed angry earlier, but it meant nothing with his mercurial temper and sadistic nature.

It was when Father blindfolded him though, that he thought he might not live through the evening with his wits intact. Lucius, when he was eleven, had been caught playing doctor with a Muggle girl who lived in the village. His father had taken him to the dungeonsm and for days had beaten him, denied him sight, and tortured him with threats to his mother. At one point in the ordeal, he thought he had gone mad as he heard the jeering taunts of his father when the man was not present. At the end of the lesson, Father dragged him out to recite his perfidy to both mother and the assembled Knights of Walpurgis. Lucius had barely contained his weakened bowels as the Brotherhood taunted him.

Lucius had never repeated the mistake and looked on his disgrace only when he was alone and would not have to explain the perspiration on his brow or the quaking of his limbs. Father led him into the same room. Lucius knew it immediately by the fusty smell. The blindfold was quickly removed and Lucius was pushed to his knees before the handsome figure of Lord Voldemort. The man smiled, the expression not meeting his eyes. "Hello, Lucius. How delightful to finally meet you."

&*&*&

On the train back to Hogwarts, Lucius found himself looking for the inky black head of Severus Snape. He needed the constancy the boy's homely presence brought him. He paused at each open door, the train was not as crowded as it had been for the beginning of the school year.

Lucius wondered at that observation, but shrugged it off as he had done much after meeting the Dark Lord.

He spied the boy in the last compartment, alone. The Mudblood was seated with several Gryffindor firsties a car up. Lucius entered the area. The boy was reading as he twisted his hair between his forefinger and thumb. He acknowledged Lucius' presence with a swift upward glance and then returned to reading.

Lucius sat, propping his long legs next to the seated boy. Snape sighed and scooted away from Lucius' dragonhide booted feet. Lucius felt the familiar cat and mouse smirk cross his face. He had felt the same way in his pursuit of Narcissa a few years ago, it unsettled him, but not enough to desist in his efforts to jar the boy out of his silent complacency. Malfoy _Accio_ 'ed his copy of the _Daily Prophet_ from his satchel, rattling it in a great show as he opened it. He smirked as the corners of the boy's lips drew down and cast a black look at his tormentor. Malfoy rattled the paper again as he moved his feet closer to the boy.

Snape primly closed his book, marking the page with a tattered Muggle bookmark which bore the faint impressions of a dragon and a figure either holding a sword or a wand. The boy stared at him for a moment before he drawled, in an imitation of Lucius' tones, "What is it you want, Malfoy?"

Lucius considered his actions for a moment before answering truthfully, "I don't know."

"Well then, sod off. I've not finished my essay for Herbology." The boy opened his book again, ignoring the high compliment paid him by Malfoy's continued presence.

Lucius smiled and tucked the newspaper under his arm. "I like you, Snape. You're not like everyone else."

"Obviously." The boy sneered, resuming his fidgeting play with his hair. Lucius chuckled darkly, wondering at his fascination with the ugly little boy, hoping they could continue their strange association even after he left Hogwarts at the end of the term. If Snape applied himself, and Father approved, Lord Voldemort might find a place for him, even if he was a halfblood. Lucius closed his eyes and spun his plans, unaware of the burning gaze which the boy cast at him


	2. Growing Pains

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More is revealed about Lucius and Severus' past.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was red-moused by Jilliane.

**Chapter 2: Growing Pains**

 

Lucius pulled himself out of the memory, the glowing surface of the Pensieve casting odd, arcing lights around his private study. It was late and he had many memories to relive before he slept. He carefully replaced the tendrils of living quicksilver, one strand at a time, ignoring the cold feeling of them as they settled once more into their niches.

 

He leaned back against the rough leather of his favourite chair, tiredly sifting through the thoughts he wanted to bring forth next. He sighed as he heard Narcissa stir in the next room. Her soft moan of pain caused him more than a little pang of guilt. 

 

She was dying and it was because of him. If Lucius had been a better husband, if he had cared more for her, if he had allowed the Muggle Healers to treat her...

 

Lucius had loved four people in his life. Of those four, Draco was irrevocably lost to him. His son refused to speak to Lucius after the war and barely spoke to Narcissa some four years since. The second person he loved, his mother, had died too many years ago to truly feel anything but a low ache when he happened to think of her at all. The third, Narcissa, lay dying in the next room, her body wasted from a Muggle ailment that seemed to strike few wizards but the Blacks. The Muggle Healers he had finally allowed in called it amyotrophic lateral sclerosis, or ALS, and held out no hope for her recovery. The fourth... he rubbed his eyes with his thumb and forefinger as if to feel more than the familiar aching of his heart and the constriction of the muscles in his throat... the fourth was most likely dead, his body had never been recovered. Lucius suspected that one of the faithful on either side of the conflict had found him in that stinking shack and defiled his body before letting the scavengers take it away. Lucius reckoned that Severus would have liked the thought of cycling through the cosmic meat grinder, food for food, but it just depressed Malfoy. 

 

As had happened on many nights before, Lucius felt his heart thudding heavily, and he was unable to draw more than a few shaking, painful breaths after he thought on his old friend. He rose as he opened the drawer to his desk and then brought out the fabric, dark with blood and dye. Severus' shroud after the Dark Lord murdered him with that foul snake, left there carelessly after his body was absconded. Lucius shuddered and then stilled as he brought the garment to his face. As he had done every night since he conceived this mad plan, he sobbed, the painful sound muffled in the cloak. Yes, Lucius had loved four times, but Severus had always been his forever love, and now he was gone. 

 

Perhaps.

 

Lucius began settled behind his desk again laying the dark wool in his lap, liking the feel of the rough fabric and the tang of the blood, still as sharp as his pain after all these years.

 

&*&*&

 

It was midnight, well past curfew and Lucius had just finished his rounds. He smiled and gave Narcissa a peck on the cheek as he entered the dormitory. She fidgeted under his touch but settled back into him as he draped his arms around her. She was lovely even in her Hogwarts uniform, the green and silver set off her porcelain features perfectly. Lucius' eyes strayed about the room as he searched. It seemed to be the thing he did these days, looking for the ugly little boy and his mismatched clothes. He spied him, sitting knees to nose, looking at a book and moving his lips. Lucius ran his hand over Narcissa's nape, loving the power he felt as his fingers elicited goosebumps along her spine. 

 

Narcissa watched as Lucius moved to the boy, her brows drawn up in surprise. Lucius liked that he could draw that response from her as well. It would not do for his future wife to cower before him. Lucius planned to live differently than his father. He would, he vowed. He would.

 

Snape did not look up as Lucius sat on the floor next to him. Lucius ran his hand over his perfect hair, almost girlishly before he caught himself. He positioned his shoulder next to the boy's leg, touching him in a conscious effort, not at all disturbed by the thrill which coursed through him at the boy's proximity. Lucius drawled after a moment of study, "It is late for an eleven year old, why aren't you sleeping?"

 

"M'twelve." The boy's eyes flicked to him and then back to the dog-eared Potions book. "It's my birthday."

 

Lucius felt that fleeting sense of pursuit as the boy moved his legs away from Lucius' shoulder. Snape looked at him fully after another long moment of reading. "Why do you care?"

 

The boy's eyes gleamed darkly, the light from the torches casting him in flickering shadows and light, throwing his features in stark relief. Lucius reached up and touched the boy's cheek. "I simply do, young snake. You should sleep. There are things the older students need to discuss."

 

The boy's shoulder hunched and he drew in on himself. "You're gonna talk about Him aren't you?"

 

"Him?" Luicus attempted to strike a pose of insouciant innocence but only succeeded in confirming the boy's supposition. "I don't know of whom you speak. Now, off to bed, firstie, or you'll have detention tomorrow."

 

"They don't like me," the boy said as he put his books into his bag in an orderly manner his scowling countenance turned down. "The others... They say I'm a dirty halfblood. Why do you bother?"

 

Lucius rose and turned away from the boy as if he had not spoken. He could not put into words why he cared for the waif, only that he did. The question hung in the air as the boy left the room long after the others began speaking of His plans for them once they graduated

 

&*&*&

 

Severus was sixteen and sitting on Lucius' bed, his long legs drawn up at the knees, his head down. "Why?"

 

Lucius stirred from his position next to Severus, his bare chest sparkling in the light of the afternoon sun. "Your constant refrain, Severus, 'why?' Leave off and come back to bed. I need you."

 

Severus stiffened. "I'm just a cock to you, when Narcissa returns you'll cut me out."

 

The strange pain that always settled around his chest when Severus spoke about the future, his future, radiated from his heart leaving him feeling bruised and prickly. He moved the duvet, the soft hiss of silk cutting through the silence of the room, a snaking sound of desire. He read the truth of Severus' words in the knotted muscles of his back. A back marred with scars, thick an ropy, much as Lucius' was and for the same reasons. Perhaps Muggles and purebloods weren't that far apart when dealing with sons. 

 

Lucius knew well how to be cruel, but he did not know how to show this boy the depth of his attachment to him. He slid behind him, bare chest to back, arms loosely wrapped around his waist. "Come to bed, love. I need you."

 

_As earth needs water, as fire needs air..._

 

Severus shifted away from him. "Don't, Lucius. I don't even know..."

 

His curtain of black hair fell down, obscuring his fine-boned features. Lucius lifted it from his nape liking that his breath could cause goosebumps to trail down the parchment flesh, liking that he had that effect on Severus. 

 

"...why you persist in keeping me around." The words he did not speak hung in the air. She didn't.

 

Lucius pulled the man-child against him. Their romance was fraught with unspoken words and unfinished vows. They could ask for no more.

 

"Please, love, I need to feel you move inside me." Lucius shook with need and Severus relented. 

 

&*&*&

 

Lucius stirred from the Pensieve, the dizzying pull of memory making him clutch the desk as if he were under the influence of strong drink or Muggle Poison. Head spinning, he stood, stumbling slightly as he made his way into Narcissa's room. 

 

In days past her boudoir had been her sanctuary, a place of calm around Lucius' sometimes volatile temper and political machinations. During the dark days, when Lord Voldemort was in residence, it had become her fortress. She retreated there when she could, escaping the violence and ugliness that Lucius brought into their house via the Monster Who Would Not Die. Through it all, she had loved him and he her, both in their distantly affectionate way, but their love could not be denied.

 

Now, the room was transformed again, with Muggle medical equipment replacing priceless artifacts and the heavy feel of death lingering in the atmosphere, rather than the tinkling of china and laughter. Narcissa lay still under the green light of the machines, so like another light that brought death, the only thing in her wasted face alive were her eyes. He sat next to her on the bed. "Can't you sleep, darling?"

 

He waited as if she answered before he replied, "I shall get the Muggle Sleeping Draught the Healers sent you."

 

He fetched the clear phial and set it on the table, waiting for Narcissa to blink. In the gloom of the boudoir, she jerked one lid over her eye and Lucius set about aiding her. He drew the prescribed amount into the syringe, knowing that Narcissa tracked his movements. He pulled the instrument out of the phial and moved it to her IV. Her eyelid drooped in defeat. As he depressed the plunger he whispered, "Not tonight, darling. I'm too weak to give you up yet."

 

&*&*&

 

Father called Lucius before him the night he returned from Hogwarts, his first day as a real adult. Abraxas Malfoy sat behind his desk, his fortress against the rise of dirty halfbloods and Mudbloods, his bastion against the weakening of his son from their influence. Lucius bowed with the correct show of deference as the older Malfoy bade him to sit. 

 

Abraxas fixed his son with his cool, hawkish gaze, his yellow-hued eyes cold as Lucius assumed his seat. "Your mother is dead. She took her own life in January at that hovel in Vienna of which she was so fond."

 

Lucius tried not to reel from the news, manfully fought against the howl that even now threatened to rip from him. He clutched the arms of the leather chair spasmodically, his white knuckles the only outward show of his agony. He swallowed the gorge that rose, and scrambled for a look of calm as Father watched him.

 

Abraxas Malfoy sneered, his customary expression in his dealings with his overly emotional son. "I know you were fond of her, but I did not deem her selfish act reason enough to draw you out of school. She was cremated, and I had the elves spread her ashes."

 

Lucius waited impatiently counting the minutes with the ticking of his heart, a dry, broken sound to his ears. Father watched him and when he ascertained his son would not disgrace the family with a show of emotion, he continued, "You are to attend a meeting of the Knights this evening . Prepare yourself in the usual manner."

 

"Yes, Father." Lucius said dully, dreading the coming night even as Abraxas Malfoy turned his scathing attention to the documents before him once more. 

 

Once Lucius left the cold study and made his way to the family wing, he collapsed on the top stairs, sobbing disconsolately as a child would. He felt a presence behind him and struggled to stand as panic knifed through his body. He attempted to rise, taking unsteady gulps to stop the flow of his tears, but fell against the railing bonelessly as father's cutting tone assailed him. "I wonder how I managed to raise such a puling mess."

 

"I am... not, Father." Lucius answered, the pain in his chest blooming in bright arcs of red and purple. "Please forgive my display."

 

Abraxas Malfoy lifted his chin with the silver-tipped snake-headed cane of which he was so fond. "Snivelling does not suit the heir to the Malfoy line. I have half a mind to leave you here this evening."

 

"Please, Father, I shall not disgrace you with any further displays of... maudlin sentimentality." Lucius hated the whinging tone of his voice. He straightened his clothing with numbed hands and a stiff face. "You are correct. Mother was... weak."

 

Father smirked then tapped Lucius' chin with his cane. "That she was. Go to the library. You will take stripes for your weakness and then you may ready yourself."

 

Lucius inclined his head graciously. "Thank you, Father, for your forbearance at my shocking display."

 

The words were ash and bile on his tongue, and echoed in his heart as he readied himself for the pain to come. 

 

&*&*&

 

Lucius stretched from the Pensieve, sickened by the thought of what would come. He listened for the faint gurgle of Narcissa's breath as she existed in her narcotised state. He had loved her for years. It had taken him a good deal of time to admit it to himself, and longer to admit it to her. Only in the end, during the dark days of the last part of the war, did he tell her of his feelings. She had merely opened her arms and welcomed him into her body. He had taken her roughly with his need and she burned brilliantly in his arms. 

 

It was the words that she uttered afterwards that shook him. "Is this what you felt for Severus, this longing and fast-burning passion?"

 

"Cissy," Lucius had groaned as he lay his perspiring head on her shoulder. "That is long over. Don't let's speak of him."

 

She smiled, a genuine one that forgave him much. Lucius, even after his release from Azkaban still reeked of that foul prison, was still lean and gaunt from his ill treatment. She kissed him, feeling the lie in his statement. It would never be over between Lucius and Severus. He was the only person Lucius had ever trusted enough to master him. He had said in response to her silent query, "I love you, darling. That is enough for me."

 

She coughed in the next room, the soft sound breaking the peace of the night. Lucius felt the burden of her continued existence, yet was still too weak to let her go as she had asked only a few months ago, when she could still speak. He let out a soughing, despairing sound and began replacing the memories. He would go to bed and finish tomorrow or the next day. Then he could do as Cissy asked, not before. 

 

He stood, placing the carefully folded cloak in his lap back into the drawer, noticing that the dried blood was finally breaking down. He scattered the flakes of brown-red that littlered his flesh across his desk as he moved his hands. 

 

He glared at them, willing them to tell him if his plan would work. He knew that if it didn't, Lucius could not survive. Lucius had loved four people in his life, and none of them had been himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading. Please take the time to tell me what you think about the story so far.


	3. Seduction

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A moment defines their relationship.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was red-moused by Jilliane.

Selkie

Chapter 3: Seduction

Lucius allowed himself to be blindfolded by Father, whose hands were cold and rough. He waited in his blind state for the pull of Disapparation, struggling to keep still under the heavy robes he wore. Father had laid on the stripes well that night and Mother had not been there to apply the dittany or give her paltry comfort. She would never be there again. He felt Father's breath on his cheek as he said, "I do hope you remember tonight's lessons. The Dark Lord will expect quick and absolute compliance. He does not like to deal with overly emotional brats."

Father put his arm around Lucius, pulling him close, causing the soft cotton shirt to chaff his welted skin. Lucius fought the urge to wince as they Disapparated.

They landed in an area that smelled of rot, grass, and open air. A late spring wind caught at Lucius' cloak, lifting his robes, sending a chill up his heated back. He would be lucky if he did not have a fever by morning. Father roughly tore the blindfold from his eyes propelling Lucius ahead of him with a push to the small of his back. Lucius bit back hiss of pain as Father chuckled. "I do hope I haven't hurt you, boy."

His steps flagged as Lucius looked about. They were in a mouldering graveyard, the ground uneven with ancient graves that were half sunken in the ground. A light mist covered his feet, swirling about them as he followed his father up the path to an ancient manor house that had been destroyed by some long ago act of war. The theatricality of the location suited Lucius' sense of drama. He was to meet the Dark Lord for the second time in his life, it was fitting that the meeting be shrouded in the cosmic mystery of death and rebirth.

Father paused at the head of the path, before a rusted iron gate, his face limned in impatience and ire. Lucius hurried his steps not wanting to embarrass his father or merit anymore instruction this evening. 

They passed through the gate and trod up an uneven path to the Norman edifice of the house. Lucius stooped through the door, narrowly missing the stone lintel that had fallen across it. His stripes burnt as he bent and as he straightened. 

He did not know what to expect. When he had met the Dark Lord at the year's turn, he had been impressed with the man's fierce dedication to the cause of purebloods and the infringement of Muggle society on their most sacred traditions. He had heard darker things about Lord Voldemort, but dismissed most of them as propaganda. Father would never follow an extremist and would certainly not open the Malfoy purse to a losing cause. 

Lucius followed his father along a derelict hallway, the walls littered with graffiti and the flagstone floors littered with Muggle trash. When they came to two new oaken doors, Father stopped him with a hand to his chest. He licked his lips nervously, not quite meeting his son's gaze as he asked, "Once you pass this portal, your life will change. Are you prepared?"

Lucius' heart swelled with the importance of the occasion. He answered with a clear, strong voice his heart fluttering with pride at the honour that was being bestowed upon him, "Yes, Father, I am ready."

Abraxas Malfoy looked on his son with something like approval as he raised his wand and incanted a spell, softly so that Lucius could not hear the spoken words. The doors swung open and Lucius followed him into the darkened room.

His eyes adjusted to the gloom of the interior and he waited in expectant awe as a small flicker of light started at the centre of the room. He felt hands at his shoulders, pulling his cloak from his back and other hands at his clothing, loosening his tie, his waistcoat, pulling them off of him with harsh tugs. Lucius bit down on his panic and arousal as he was stripped bare. He felt a soft hand guide him forward into a cone of light that had appeared, beyond that light the room was dead. He was pushed forward and the masked figures retreated after pushing him to kneel. Lucius kept his face down, knowing that to raise it would be folly. Years under Father's strict tutelage had taught him that, if nothing else. He heard the shuffling of feet and then the doors closing. An unsettled silence filled the room as his jailers left.

He did not know how long he waited in that light, head down, shoulders straight, knees aching from the contact with the rough stone. He held himself still, not giving into the intensifying burn in his back or the watery feel of his gut. 

Still, silent, poised as if for flight, Lucius waited until his alabaster skin and pale gold hair prickled with awareness. Another had entered the room. He kept his head down, but wanted to flee, to raise his eyes, to feast on the horror or beauty that he knew awaited him. The soft swish of velvet against leather and silk against skin alerted him to the close proximity of the figure. A high, cool voice that seemed to be disembodied from the figure that emitted it said, "Rise, Lucius, son of Abraxas, and look upon the man who would claim your fealty."

Lucius raised his eyes to the red-brown ones, the colour of dried blood, and immediately was engulfed in a feeling of raw power unlike any he had experienced before. Lord Voldemort extended his pale, slender hand and Lucius took it, unabashed at his own state of arousal. His cock bobbed ahead of him as his Lord brought him through the darkness into a luxuriously appointed chamber. 

"Sit here." Lord Voldemort bade him to take a seat on a small ottoman in the centre of the room, his heavy. crested ring flashing in the soft light cast by the myriad candles which dotted the room. Lucius did as he was told, wanting to take his aching cock in his fist, wanting to bury it in anything soft. 

Lord Voldemort circled him, pausing behind Lucius. "He beats you, your father?"

Lucius remained silent until Voldemort touched his stripes, his cool fingers creating both agony and exhilaration. Lucius felt the pressure build in his testicles, tightening deliciously as his liege probed his flesh. "Look at me, young Malfoy."

Lucius complied, twisting as he did and lifting his gaze to Voldemort's eyes. He felt the ripping sensation of Legilimancy as Voldemort tore through Lucius' shields.  Years of humiliation and pain doled from his father flowed from Lucius' mind to Lord Voldemort's, the still fresh agony of the telling of his mother's death just this afternoon slid out, oily and wet like an unborn thing, Narcissa's strained smile as Lucius observed Father touching her, fondling her breast as he pinned her against the wall of the library, heedless of Lucius and Mother's presence, the slights and sneers of Dumbledore, Lucius' fascination for the ugly little boy...

Lucius heaved against the pressure of the invasion--  the boy was his! \-- and then Lord Voldmort's pressure increased, became painful. Lucius could hear his own ragged sobs as the other man returned to the images of Abraxas Malfoy and his coldness, his anger, his disdain, his lack of filial warmth. He heard himself plead, beg to be turned loose, and then he felt a rush of satisfaction, alien and cold, returned to him. 

Voldemort broke the contact, a secretive smile passing over his lips, not meeting his sanguine eyes. "What is it you crave most? Pleasure beyond telling? Revenge? No, these are too paltry for such a powerful wizard. Yesss, I think I know..."

Lord Voldemort lifted Lucius' chin with a cold finger, the feel of it mildly distasteful against Lucius' heated skin. Unbidden a vision of an older Lucius, commanding, sleek presiding over the Wizengammot, deciding the fate of others, rose to the fore. Lucius felt the power of the vision, recognised the seduction the fulfilment of it offered. 

Voldemort hissed softly, a sound of assent before he placed his wand against Lucius' arm. "I offer you my Mark of protection against all who would thwart you, Lucius Abraxas Malfoy. If you take it, do you promise to serve me faithfully for as long as you live?"

Lucius found his voice as his mind warned him away from the situation. He wanted to run screaming of danger into the night and to grovel at the feet of the man before him. He answered, his voice alien and creaking to his ears, "I do."

Voldemort continued, "I offer you my Mark to grant you freedom from  all forces that would bind you. If you take it, do promise to bind yourself to me, heart, body and soul?"

Lucius' voice was stronger as he replied, "I do."

His Lord asked his final question as gathered magic swirled around them, "I offer you my Mark to give you all the power you desire. If you take this Mark, will you use that power to further the aims of the Brotherhood to which you bind yourself?"

Lucius exhaled the words of binding as magic rose around him, pressing tickling tendrils against his skin, caressing him in the hidden places of his body, "I do."

Lord Voldemort incanted the old words of power, unfamiliar to Lucius yet part of his heritage, as a dark stain spread across his arm like a plague against the white skin. It coalesced, drawing on Lucius' own unspent magic as it formed a skull with a snaking tongue. As his Lord pronounced the final words, Lucius fell to the ground as an agonising pleasure overtook him. He spilled himself on the rich carpet, felt the sticky emissions spurting as he screamed, the pain and the pleasure unbearable. 

Once done, Lord Voldemort stooped beside him, pressing cool, gentle hands against his sweating brow as he cast cleansing charms on Lucius' body. "You and I, we have much in common, Lucius. Our father's have both proven to be problematic."

He kissed Lucius' brow, the feel of his lips dry and slithering against the younger man's flesh, and then drew a coverlet over his prone form. "Sleep, and then we celebrate your induction into our midst."

Lucius was distantly aware of the candles flickering as Lord Voldemort's booted feet traversed the room. He heard the click of the latch and then the door closed with an nearly inaudible snick. Lucius slept.

&*&*&

Hogsmeade weekends had always been Lucius' favorite time when he was at school. The freedom from observation and the sheer joy of being outside the confines of the school he regarded as his prison had been heady. He had returned to Hogsmeade, this fifth year away from the school under orders to issue a veiled invitation to Severus Snape to meet with the Dark Lord. He was to ostensibly ask Snape to join him for the Yule festivities at Malfoy Manor. The dark boy had not escaped the Dark Lord's notice, not since Lucius had introduced him into the Dark Lord's consciousness on the night of Lucius' Marking. 

Things had gone according to plan for Lucius. He was to marry next year after Narcissa completed her education on the continent. She was studying Charms, a proper woman's pursuit, and gathering support for Lucius' cause amidst the future power brokers in Europe. Lucius ran his hand over his left forearm, a vague feeling of unease passing over his flesh. Service to the Dark Lord was becoming dangerous, the duties more odious, and it seemed that war loomed over every aspect of his life. He had hoped to keep Severus out of the fray, but the more he resisted, the more the Dark Lord pressed to meet the boy that so fascinated one of his brightest young lieutenants. 

Lucius secured a private room in the dingy recesses of the Hog's Head, the barman sniffing at the money offered, but taking it nonetheless. Lucius met the old man's blue eyes and deftly flicked the key to the room from the man's upraised palm. "I am expecting an addition to my party, a young man named Snape. Please direct him to me."

He pulled out his purse with a clinking shake and put another coin in the man's upraised hand, feeling mild distaste at the necessity for commerce in conjunction with Severus. The man nodded sharply once and turned back to his other patrons. Lucius strode down the aisle to the private rooms, not letting his robes touch anything in the establishment, lest they be soiled. He wanted everything to be perfect for Severus.

He had long ago given in to the idea that the boy fascinated him. It had only been recently that he realised the fascination had turned to a longing to be with the boy in more intimate ways. The fact did not shame Lucius. He was a passionate man, and since his betrothed was away, it would hurt no one to indulge in the fantasies that haunted him. Images seemed to creep up on him when he was least ready for them. Father had made mention of Lucius' inattention during dinner just last evening. Lucius had stared coldly at the old man. "I have my duties on my mind, Father. Perhaps if you were more attentive, the Dark Lord would favour you also."

Abraxas Malfoy had dropped his gaze. True to his word, The Dark Lord had taken care of Lucius' father. The Malfoy scion had not been beaten since that night five years ago. That fact alone had diminished Lucius' need for approval, at least from his father. Lucius instead, fought for the approval of the Dark Lord, vying for position amongst the hungry sons of pureblood society that nudged and jostled at their Lord's feet. 

If only it did not mean he would have to deliver Severus to him. The weedy boy had grown into a delicate youth. He still sneered and slouched his way through life, but his mind was beautiful, poetic, a work of art. The stolen moments he had been able to spend with the boy had impressed Lucius, made him want Snape more. He shivered, imagining the boy's black eyes focused solely and passionately on him, rather than some dusty tome or nasty potion. Lucius would show the boy true alchemy if he would allow him. 

Lucius jostled the key in the lock, saying a common spell to get the sticky tumbler to click and then slide over. The door opened on a dingy room with a sad, sagging bed in the centre, an oval table to the side and two chairs beside it, that had once been fine leather, now covered with a thin sheen of oil over ragged hide. Lucius cast several cleansing spells on the surfaces he and Severus would occupy, not neglecting the bed's sheets. Bed bugs were just as much a problem in the wizarding world as they were in the Muggle one. Not that Lucius thought he could entice the ascetic Severus under the covers. Once done, he arranged himself in an affected pose, striking his legs forward, his hands laxly clasping the arms of the chair. 

A sharp rap sounded on the door and Lucius said, "Enter."

Severus entered the room, his inky presence clouding Lucius' vision as he scowled about the room. "You summoned me?"

"Is that any way for an old friend to speak to someone he has not seen in a dog's age?" Lucius chuckled mirthlessly, covering the sharp stab of desire and pain that Severus' presence always brought to the fore. He damned himself for needing the boy's approbation after the Dark Lord had burned the need for Abraxas' approval from him. 

Severus smirked, his lips curling down at the corners unpleasantly. He slouched into the room, taking a seat primly on the seat opposite Lucius at the table. "I had no idea we were so well acquainted, Malfoy. We hardly ever speak, other than our brief conversations when you have no one else to occupy your time."

Lucius twirled his wand between his fingers idly. "You are correct, I have been remiss in my pursuit of your company. I do have my duties to consider, what with the Board of Governors occupying much of Father's time when we are here. I do regret that, Severus"

Lucius let silence supply the sentiment he felt. Lucius always spoke with silence when softer emotions were at play. It was safer that way for all involved. 

"What is it you want?" Severus asked in some impatience. "You pulled me away from an important Potions experiment."

Severus remained ramrod straight, knees together almost primly. Lucius pulled a flask out of his robes and then transfigured tumblers out of two quartz pebbles he carried for just such a purpose. He busied himself with the pouring and the handling of the liquor, biding his time until Severus relaxed. He pushed the half-filled tumbler across the table to the younger boy, who glared at it without reaching for it. Lucius brought his drink to his lips and sipped, enjoying the smooth warmth of the liquid as it traversed his palette, gullet and gut. He half-closed his eyes, as if contemplating the aroma. From behind his lids, he watched Snape, hungrily taking in the sharp and delicate planes of his face. "Drink with me to deeper friendships, Severus."

Severus reached for the glass and winced, grabbing his side as he took the glass. "I'm not one for strong drink, Lucius. You should know that, if you know anything about me."

"You're hurt." A flicker of hot rage stirred in Lucius' heart. "Are those four Gryffindor cowards still attacking you?"

Severus avoided Lucius' eyes and sipped the firewhisky. He covered a gasp with a mild moue of disgust. "When do they ever leave me alone? You know what I am at that school."

Lucius stirred from his languorous pose. He stooped before Severus, pulling at the boy's clothing as he did. Severus froze, a look of shock settling on his features before his normal, cool mask slipped into place and he slapped at Lucius' hands. 

Lucius persisted, saying, "Let me see what they have done to you. I will..."

"You will what, Lucius?" Severus asked trying to rise and only tangling his feet in the chair legs before he stumbled past Lucius. "Don't offer me protection that you will not follow through on. I can't bear to..."

Lucius stalked after him, trapping him against the wall as he used his wand to open the layers of fabric in which the boy swathed himself. His mouth went dry as he saw the thin chest, the beating of Snape's heart evident in the pulse at his throat. Severus crossed his thin arms over his chest, exposing the bruised flesh of his side to Lucius' view. Lucius' eyes moved to the ugly site, but what caused rage to burst fully into his consciousness were the other scars and faint bruises that had obviously not been inflicted during the school year. 

"Who did this?" Lucius raged. "Who dares to lay their hands on you in such a brutal fashion? Is it that Muggle your mother soiled herself with?"

Severus pushed against Lucius' chest, his fingers digging painfully into the older man's flesh. "Gerrof me. Why do you care? Didn't I see the same type marks on you in school? You know why I have them."

Lucius swept his eyes to the boy's. Severus still clutched at Lucius's shoulders, his eyes angry and imploring, his mouth a thin ugly line. If Lucius just leaned in a little, he could capture those lips, make them soften under his. He breathed in as he studied Severus' features, the scent of fire, potions and musk filled his lungs, the sight of the fluttering pulse point at the base of Severus thin neck, fragile and endearing. Lucius leaned and Severus remained still as the moment spun out, an eternity of promise. He captured the boy's lips, softly at first. Severus tasted and felt different than a woman. There was no artifice in his essence, no perfumes to mask unpleasant odours, no cosmetics to cover less than perfect features. Lucius kissed Severus, lingering over the slight beard that even now tried to sprout on his young face. The older man suppressed a moan as Severus stepped into the circle of Lucius' arms, clutched at him with scrabbling, stained fingers. Severus seemed as hungry for human contact as Lucius was.

Lucius drank deeply of the boy, sliding his tongue against Snape's hard lips until they slackened, became pliant. Lucius' tongue darted to the recesses of the boy's mouth shyly and was heartened to feel the boy respond in kind. The kiss spun out dragging Lucius' senses to a dark place, one that spoke of his loneliness and need. His hand strayed to the boy's back, pulling him closer, letting the boy feel what his untutored passion did to Lucius. A crash outside the door broke the spell.

Severus gave a violent push to Lucius' midriff. "What... what.. No one..."

"I want you." Lucius answered, his heart throbbing in time to the beat further down on his anatomy. 

"No one wants me, Lucius." The mask settled over Severus' face as he drew his clothing over his nudity. "The Dark Lord sent you, didn't he?"

"No... Yes, but I... want you." Lucius stuttered, his voice raw with the longing he felt for the ugly, beautiful boy. "I have since forever."

Snape shook his lank hair into his face as he buttoned the last closure on his robe. "That was a cheap and tawdry thing to do, Lucius. I don't appreciate you toying with me. If you wanted me to come to the Manor, all you had to do was ask."

Lucius could not answer. He was mute with need. Severus looked up, his black eyes ancient. "I'll give you an answer next Hogsmeade weekend about joining your Yule party. If you are sincere about your desires, you will be here in this room to accept my answer."

Severus swept from the room, his school robes billowing about him. Lucius sank to the floor, his knees suddenly weak. He would be there, whatever Severus thought, Lucius would always be there for the ugly boy who had crept into Lucius' heart like a dark omen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading. Please take the time to let me know what you think.


	4. Reckoning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A moment defines their relationship.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was red-moused by Jilliane.

 

Reckoning 

 

Narcissa died on June 4th, 2002. Lucius marked the moment of her passing with little fanfare and no great show of grief. How can one grieve for the loss of a limb, or part of one's soul? It simply could not be done. He had made the necessary arrangements for her body years ago and so only needed to contact the proper authorities to hasten her departure from the Manor and into the cold earth. She would lie in state in the library until she was interred three days hence. Lucius need only endure the gawkers and carrion crows for a few days before he shut himself away for his year and a day of official mourning. Of course, he would be long gone by the time that period ended. He would find that little island in the North Sea that Snape had told him about all those years ago, when they were young and relatively innocent, when there was no blood between them but their own. Then Lucius would... he would be able to find his place in this increasingly cold universe. 

 

If he didn't find Severus, Lucius would die.

 

It was only after he broke the Floo connection to the funeral parlour did he let the pain of his loss touch him. He sat before the bright flames, tears blotting the light from his vision, threatening to spill down his marble-cool cheeks. 

 

He howled, hoping the noise remained inside his mind, but recognising that it probably did not, as a house elf poked its head into the room and then scampered away. They all knew that their master, at the best of times, was volatile. Lucius was vaguely aware of time passing by the ticking of the mantle clock and the sun's progress across the floor. What did it matter if he wasted and died? He had no one to care for him, not anymore.

 

He stayed in his stupour well past dark, waving off the elves who brought him sustenance, numbly returning to his swirling, silvery thoughts, so like the Pensieve he had dwelt in for the last month.

 

Severus was alive. He had to be.

 

If he weren't, Lucius would well and truly cease to exist,as if a Dementor's noxious embrace had taken his soul and left the meaty shell to exist. He stirred himself as a small commotion occurred outside the study's wall. It would not do for the ruthless head of the Malfoy clan to be found in such emotional disarray. His father's lessons could not be unlearned, no matter how much he wanted them to be. 

 

He stood, straightening his rumpled clothes, running a hand through his lank hair. Once done, he threw open the door, fixing the participants of the hubbub with an icy look of hauteur. He was unsurprised to see two Aurors being held off by several house elves. That one was none other than the Potter Who Would Not Die left him less than impressed. The other man clad in those hated blue robes caused his heart to jerk sluggishly against his ribs. Draco had come, and on official business it seemed. Lucius raised his hand, and the house elves desisted in their efforts to impede the Ministry's goons in their progress. Surely the head of the MLE could not be that pointedly ironic, sending these two to investigate any irregularities in Narcissa's death. The man had seemed humourless during Lucius' encounters with him, but then again, he had been in the man's custody at the time. As the two Aurors drew closer, Lucius said in a clear voice, "To what do I owe the pleasure of such illustrious company?"

 

Potter, at least, had the grace to look ill-at-ease. Draco laboured under no such compunction. His son's grey eyes met his, the pain and hatred evident in them as he asked, "Where is she?"

 

Lucius motioned to the two men to follow him down the hallway, decadent in its Georgian splendour, to the library belowstairs. He opened the door to the room, standing aside. He could not look upon her ravaged body. Not again. Not yet. Time for that would come, when he knew he would be under scrutiny, when he knew he would be able to draw on the ice that encased his heart. Not yet. Later.

 

Draco entered the room of dry death, so unlike what Lucius was used to during the war. On the battlefield, death had been hot, wet, and sudden. Not that arid wasting away that Narcissa had undergone. He could not look on it that night.

 

Potter stood outside the room, obviously conflicted. After moments of strained silence he said, "I'm sorry for your loss, Mr. Malfoy."

 

Lucius' jaws knotted at the words, the howls of pain threatening to rise, too much for his control. He stalked back up the stairs without a word, unable to linger, unwilling to let the boy's inadequate and undeserved compassion touch him. 

 

&*&*&

 

Father was dying; the effects of the curse he had taken pulling the life from his body as he lay in his bed. Lucius had been summoned to his side last evening after the failed raid. He waited outside the room with his bride of six months, and Severus Snape. The irony did not escape him that Father needed him now that Lucius no longer desired that state.

 

The Healer, a brown man with bushy brows and an oily manner, motioned him to the door. Severus looked up at the disturbance, his black eyes glittering in the light of the candles. Lucius remembered a different summer evening, with the taste of Severus on his lips and the feel of the dark boy inside his own skin. That time was over, but still Lucius ached for the past and lost opportunities. Narcissa, unaware of his thoughts, coolly continued her embroidery, her silver needle taking tiny stabbing stitches, sewing up the tapestry of their lives. She loved Severus as a brother and knew Lucius loved him as more. She had known since that first day with the ugly little boy, now gone homely man. Narcissa was a perfect pureblood wife and so didn't need to assert her place. She was sanctioned, not a love affair between two achingly lonely men. 

 

Narcissa finally graced him with her tight smile of commiseration, a benediction for his feelings, but not a reflection of her own. There never had been any love lost between the Malfoy patriarch and his daughter-in-law, not since she had put him in his place.

 

It had been just after Lucius and Narcissa returned from the continent on their whirlwind honeymoon, that Abraxas had asserted his droit de seigneur Narcissa had icily informed him that he had lost the right. The Dark Lord could assert it, but Abraxas Malfoy was nothing, less than nothing, in the new order. She had turned her back on him, a tactical mistake, and Abraxas Malfoy had sprung, tearing her costly robes as he did. He had forgotten that Narcissa was Bellatrix Lestrange's sister. There were reasons Bellatrix was so favoured by the Dark Lord, and why Narcissa had been so sought after at school. After rendering the old man helpless with a bout of Crucio, Narcissa had cast the spell that would make him impotent, unable to accost her in any manner for the rest of his days. Abraxas had been angry and beaten, a dog who finally had his not so pleasant day. 

 

She told Lucius of the incident after he returned from the Ministry, and offered to allow her husband to punish her in any manner he saw fit. Lucius had taken her up on the offer, rendering her helpless with his drugging kisses and sweet lovemaking. She made him proud at that moment, and just a little in love with her. 

 

Lucius entered his father's boudoir, the site of so many painful lessons, now fusty and stale with potions fumes and spent magic. Abraxas lay on the bed, his figure wasted, his breathing shallow. Lucius approached, his tread gliding uneasily against the carpet. Abraxas coughed then moaned, the sound swallowed by the rich tapestries around his bed. Lucius sat in a chair beside the bed, quelling the shaking of his knees with a deep, silent breath. The old man opened his eyes, so like Lucius' in their frigid grey intensity. I see you could stir yourself from your wife's bed long enough to come here."

 

Lucius said nothing. What could he say to the man who had murdered his life one day at a time? 

 

Abraxas whispered, "I want you to know..." He coughed again, the sound wheezing and weak before he continued, "I want you to know that I love you."

 

Lucius laughed, the sound so startling in the heavy silence after that announcement that he stood. "You _love_ me." He paced beside the bed, unable to remain still. "Now you tell me, when it no longer matters. Are you afraid of death, old man?"

 

The question hung in the airless room, sizzled into the fabric of the Manor. Abraxas coughed again, a moist sound that splattered blood across his lips. His gaze sharpened, took on the cold, avian quality that Lucius knew so well from his youth. The old man opened his mouth, blood coating his teeth and tongue. Before could spew his vitriol, Lucius silenced him with a hand over his mouth, blood to skin, teeth to bone.

 

"You may have discovered some long dead emotion in your withered heart, Father," he hissed as he lowered his face. "But my hate for you is alive. I'm glad you're dying, and I'm glad you finally know that I hate you above all others."

 

Lucius pulled the down pillow from beneath his father's head and placed it almost gently over his face. He was Caligula to Abraxas' Tiberius as he waited for the his father's last twitch. Once the old man quit struggling, Lucius slipped the signet ring from Abraxas' claw-like hand and slid it onto his own finger. He placed the pillow beneath his father's head, gently smoothing his brow with knuckle. He could afford softness for the moment, but only then. He lived in a cruel world that was becoming increasingly more difficult to navigate, with the Dark Lord's demands and familial duties. He was a man on a tightrope and the walking of it had just been made easier by his patricide. Who was Lucius to pass up a perfect opportunity?

 

&*&*&

Draco entered the room, his footsteps soft. "Did you kill her?"

 

"No," Lucius answered from the shadows, his profile a sketch of silver lines in the gloom. "She wanted me to. She begged me before... when she could still express her wishes. I could not. I was a selfish bastard."

 

The heavy silence of the room was broken by a soft sob. Draco had always been sensitive, no thanks to Lucius' heavy hand. He was not Abraxas, but he had known little better how to raise his son. Draco had always striven to be emotionless, cold, and forbidding. He had failed, despite Lucius' worst efforts to instill in him the values of the Malfoy line. "You still are."

 

"Yes."

 

Draco's cloak rustled, the sound of sand and stone, his unique music. "Just so you know."

 

"I do." Lucius shifted, releasing his pent up muscles, letting them scream for whatever it was that they wanted. He did not know any more how to _be_. "Is that all, Dragon?"

 

"Don't call me that. _Don't you dare_." Draco's voice whipped through the room, cutting Lucius with it's knife-edged music. "You lost the right to call me that when you took that Mark. I loved you. I wanted to be you, but you used it against me and against her. You don't get to be affectionate with me. Not anymore."

 

"Just so." Lucius' felt the dryness of the words, the aridity sucking the life out of his skin, leeching his bones of their marrow. "I shall endeavour to remember that, if I address you at all."

 

Draco moved in the doorway, the light from the hall darkening then bouncing back on Lucius' features, silver becoming ice as it did. There were no words to be said between them, nothing was left but their Marks, the deaths, and the torture that was the Malfoy heritage. Lucius moved, the restive quality of the sound echoing through the room, striking at the walls, resounding and hollow. "Leave, Draco."

 

The boy's footsteps echoed down the hall, proclaiming his anger. Lucius had lost him for good.

 

&*&*&

 

Lucius followed Severus for a fortnight through the dirty streets of Manchester. The dark boy made a circuitous route from a desolate park to a middle class Muggle house and back everyday. He never failed to stop at the house, leaning on the wrought iron fence, out of sight of the open windows from which glaringly loud Muggle music pounded. Severus always ended his vigil when he saw a glimpse of ginger. The Mudblood was still an object of his obsession even though she had thrown him over. Lucius ached to take him in his arms, make him forget his Mudblood obsession for a darker passion, but he didn't. He was too shy, or too proud, to let his guard down around the homely boy. It was yet another lesson learned at Father's hands, to never show weakness. 

 

Lucius had not made a reappearance at the Hog's Head all those months ago. Severus had not accompanied him to the Malfoy Yule celebration. The Dark Lord had extracted his pound of flesh from Lucius, along with a promise that he would bring Snape to heel. Lord Voldemort would have what he wanted, but not before Lucius. Lucius could not put into to words the way the boy's ultimatum had grated on him, making him feel like the besotted fool he was. Instead, Lucius courted Severus, through silent gestures and softly carressing innuendo. Lucius could not lose all his power to the boy with an outright statement of his desires. 

 

Yet, here he was, in a desolate Muggle corner of hell, desperately following a boy in a billowing black cloak, who pined for another, whilst Lucius ached to be with him any way the boy would allow. 

 

Severus made his customary stop at the fence, his slender, graceful hands clasped around the iron. Without turning he said, "They say iron is poison to Dani. Do you find it true?"

 

Lucius shrank against the tree that hid him, unsure if Severus spoke to him or to the phantom that was his unworthy love. Severus turned slightly, his eyes never leaving the house before him. "I know you're there, Lucius. You've been following me for a fortnight."

 

Lucius stepped forward out of the shadows with a small twitch of his mouth. Severus turned to him. "You must not be a very good Death Eater if I can track you."

 

"Or you, conversely, are extremely paranoid." Lucius closed the distance between them, leaning in to smell the clean oil of Severus' hair, the soapy funk of his body. He enjoyed the fact that Severus tried so hard, yet failed so miserably, at improving himself. It left Lucius with some power in their strange relationship. The boy held most of it so far without even trying.

 

Snape turned to him. "I won't let you fuck me. If you want, I'll fuck you and let you suck my cock."

 

A frisson of disgust mixed with desire wormed through Lucius' guts at the words, settling with a cold, splashing feel at the base of his spine, radiating outward from there. Lucius knelt in front of the boy, ready to take him, hoping that he would be able to hold out until the end. He wanted him that badly. Snape hissed, "Not here! Don't you have someplace?"

 

Lucius' mouth was dry as he took the boy's elbow in a vise-like pinch with his fingers. "Do you truly believe that Father would look favourably on my dalliance with a halfblood? Take me to your house."

 

"No. Mum's at home sick, and Dad's on the dole. They'll hear." Snape's hair slanted across his face, caught in a playful breeze that blew across the neighbourhood. There were no such breezes in Snape's portion of Manchester. The wind there had been sucked out by the despair of grinding poverty, leaving the area strangely blank and grey. Lucius pulled the strand out of Snape's face, drawing the boy to him. His second kiss to Severus Snape was not tentative, sweet, or seductive. If Snape insisted on mastery, he would learn that sometimes the master and slave's roles were indistinct. Lucius knew this, and would teach him with hard lips and bruising teeth. Severus groaned as Lucius ground his lips with his own, the desire evident in the quality of the sound. Snape growled, "Come on. I know a place."

 

Lucius followed Severus' lead to a copse of trees in the desolate park. He drew the boy to him, but Snape slid out of his grasp, his black cloak billowing in the airless sunlight. "Not here. This place is... sacred."

 

They walked past the park to an abandoned mill, the windows winking with broken glass, as if they were eyes to witnessing Lucius' willing bondage. The boy took Lucius, with spit on his hand and rough thrusts, against the interior wall of the broken building under those blank-eyed windows. Lucius cried out in frustrated completion as Severus breached him, only satisfied fully when the boy gave his final grunt. Severus ended up sagging against Lucius' back, his oil and his essence mixing with the sweat on Lucius' pale, scarred back. Lucius knew he was lost to the ugly boy when he felt Snape's lips tracing those scars, when he felt Severus' tongue tasting his pain, sharp and metallic in the watery sunlight. His knees sagged, and they ended in a pile on the floor/not floor of the building, more dirt than concrete, more mud that pure. 

 

"I love you." Lucius whispered, unsure if Severus heard the words over the pounding of their hearts, not caring if he did. He knew this strange and dark boy would not throw it in his face. Severus knew the value of the words. 

 

Snape said, "I won't do this with you once you're married, just so you know."

 

"I do," Lucius answered, wondering if he could break the boy to his will, doubting he could.

 

&*&*&

 

They spent the summer between the Manor and Severus' abandoned building, learning each other's bodies even as they recognised the finite quality of their relationship. Narcissa would return in December and Lucius would be married in January. The questions about Severus' place in Lucius' life only occurred in the Manor bed. The boy was more at ease in his dunghill where he was king. Lucius' wealth unsettled him. Snape's dark and twisted heart was more protected when it was mired in mud, blood, and screaming. Lucius recognised this and let him worry. The boy already had too much control for one so young.

 

In the mill, after he took Lucius, Severus spun tales of his mother's family and their Selkie blood, telling him of the how they came to have the Prince name. Lucius lay with his head on Snape's chest, running his fingertips over the smooth pebble of his nipple, not caring about blood, purity, or family honor. "Mum told me that long ago, when the Prince family still lived in the Orkney Isles, a Selkie king took a fancy to a fisherman's daughter. He seduced her and got her pregnant. She says that's where our magic and our name came from. We come from Selkies."

 

Lucius huffed a small laugh, his tone ironic. "Yes, and Malfoys are descended from Veelas and Dani. Who cares how we were made? We are clearly superior to the Muggle filth that surrounds us."

 

"Clearly," Snape answered as he toyed with Lucius' platinum locks, letting them sift through his fingers like sand in water. "If I ever disappear, perhaps you should look for me there at the Prince family seat. There are only about seventy islands to visit."

 

Lucius smiled against Severus' chest. "I shall, I promise. I wouldn't want you to be lost to the sea and a pretty female Selkie, now would I?"

 

"You know I'll never love another woman besides her." Severus' tight tone brooked no argument, and Lucius felt the warmth of triumph at his words. The ugly boy might not love another woman, but he had not ruled out the possibility of having the same emotion for Lucius.

 

Scraps and crumbs were Lucius' sustenance.

 

&*&*&

 

Lucius jerked from his slumber aware of a strangeness in the night. He listened, his hand creeping to his wand, realising only belatedly that it was the absence of sound that caused his distress. Gone were the whirring ticks and steady beeps of Narcissa's illness. No more Avada Kedavra green tone illuminated the night. She was dead. There was a finite quantity to her suffering. Perhaps there might be to his also.

 

He rose, padding to the desk where Severus' cloak was housed. He drew it out, putting it around his naked shoulders, imagining that it was Snape's arms about him as they had been that long ago summer under the brick smokestack, and in the stolen moments in this very room. 

 

He had loved Severus Snape then, and knew he always would.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading. Please take the time to let me know what you think.


	5. Death Eater

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What it means to be alone to Lucius.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was red-moused by Jilliane.

_Children_

It had been children the Dark Lord had sent him after. Draco's age, his son's schoolmates. The thought chased around his head, (dogs and tails) sending him nearly round the bend. That swirling thought, and the Dementors outside his cell. Lucius hid his head under the thin blanket, shivering uncontrollably as one of the foul creatures passed. 

_Children_

The Weasley girl's freckled face, motley white against the gloom of the hall, her eyes solemn, hatred clear. So like her father. The Longbottom child limping along behind them. Bella had done something nasty to him, his parents, long ago. Potter's righteous anger, green eyes so like his mother's, his face so like his hated father's. Severus said so, it must be true. The other Weasley, scared out of his mind, acting as if the battle were a lark, rather than life and death. Lucius knew that feeling too well not to recognise it. The Lovegood girl, alien, fey, resolute and unpredictable. She would bear watching, later when it mattered. The Mudblood... gods! Dolohov's curse ripped her from stem to stern, blood pouring out of the wound, red, not muddy...surprising. He hoped... he hoped... he hoped... Before, when he had killed Mudbloods, there had been nothing left to recognise. Scraps of human (meat for dinner) did not retain their horrific context. 

The door scraped open, light spilling through the slit _(dirty always dirty.)_ Lucius winced, scrambled to the corner, a half mad thing with teeth and claws and skin crawling in it's own putrescence. Lucius wailed...

_Children_

Hands that did not hurt _(they burned!)_ him reached, then grabbed. Tears that did not scald _(they cleansed!)_ him washed his face. Hands and tears that were not Narcissa's, not family, but closer. He breathed in the scent of the person, not prison dank, not mouldy. The smell of love, fire and bitter herbs.

"Severus," he breathed out in, out in, out in. The hands that held him gave him something, sweet, dark, like love in a dilapidated mill, hidden away for all those years... "I loved you all those years ago, under the broken sky and smokestacks, and in my room... I loved you and it was poetry before the dark and the children came between us..."

Had he said that?  
Yes, Lucius." A Stygian chuckle from the ugly/not ugly boy/not boy broke through Lucius' terror, anguish, depression. "Eat."

Fingers pushed darkness between his lips, sweet and bitter. Like his love for the giver. There was a Muggle legend about a wizard who demanded his followers eat him, devour his blood and body, his soul. Lucius chewed, the bittersweet filling his mouth, warming him, sending...

_Children_

...away to their school with Draco. The Dark Lord was mad. He had been before he died, but now, he was inhuman, cold. The darkness had enveloped him as he drifted in furious miasma between body and earth.

The wizard who demanded his Muggle followers devour him had not devoured his followers in turn. Not like the Dark Lord with his pain, and only the relief of it, since he had resurrected himself from blood, bone, and terror. Lucius wondered about that. Why would a wizard require less of a Muggle than another would his own followers? The Dark Lord would end them all. Snape said he knew, as more darkness passed Lucius' lips, clearing his head.

"Severus." Lucius said, his eyes clearing, his brain still fogged. "What brings you here?" He looked up, feeling the film of the sweet on his teeth, over the coating of untold days of filth. His hair, Celtic knots in silver. "I must look a fright."

Severus' eyes peered back at him, black but not cold. Red was the colour of burning cold eyes, behind hands that lied, that broke with Cruciatus and...

"I saw your wife and lovely sister-in-law at Spinner's End." The words were spectres before him, meaning something to Lucius, but his brain was too fogged to guess what it was. Severus huffed in irritation. "I will help your son with his endeavour for our employer."

"You risk too much being here." Lucius shook his head to clear it, still unable to piece together the subtext. "Surely either the Dark Lord, or your other master, will be angered by you showing up here to see the failure, the murderer of children."

"No." Severus leaned against the wall, his legs splayed out before him. "Do not worry on my account, Lucius. I have certain indemnities built into my situation. Your lovely wife ensured that."

That dark chuckle flew, dry and forbidding, from Severus' mouth. So many of their brethren feared the Potions Master, his adder tongue, his quick wand, his viciousness when cornered. All things that made him who he was, and Lucius loved him for them. His flaws were for all to see, not hidden behind a pretty face, like his own. Lucius was empty. He had been since...

_Children_

...he was young. "My son, he's well?"

"Yes." That was Severus, taciturn, abrupt, prickly. He knew what Lucius could not ask. "The others are also."

Lucius sobbed into his hands, the tears smearing like blood between his fingers, sticky and warm.

And then there was Severus, his skin beneath Lucius' fingers, his robes parting. Lucius prayed, "I need you to be with me. I know you said never after Narcissa... but I need your warmth... please... it's so coooold."

Severus grunted, pulled away, and Lucius bit back a wail before more chocolate was thrust into his mouth, then Severus ghosted his lips behind the sweetness. "I need something too, not like before. I need to feel you move in me this time." 

_You be the master._

Poetry, not Severus' clipped and barren words. Was it real? Lucius positioned himself against Severus, who had exposed his skin, like it had been all those years ago in the dirty room abovestairs at the Hog's Head. Need, hate, and lust glimmered like daggers, sharp and painful love. It had always been like this, their love. Lucius didn't care as long as it was real. He feasted on the flesh, and the blood, and the soul that was left between them. They worshipped each other with cocks and tongues and questing fingers. As he entered Severus, Lucius cried out. "I am home at last!"

And then...

They were apart, both stinking of sex and prison. Snape stood, straightening himself in his dark severity, a warrior-priest once again. Lucius left himself out, sticky with shit and sperm, still pumping, seeping, twitching. Lucius howled, "I loved you. I still do."

"Lucius." Severus voice cut him. "Don't. It hurts, this wanting. I cannot... I cannot survive if you are not whole."

Severus fastened his clothing, his black cloak swirling about him like ink in a rough sea. Lucius said, "We still might not survive. He is quite mad, you know."

They both knew who He was, that shambling man-thing who had promised salvation so many years before and only brought death. Their blood, their body, their soul, a marriage of the damned. Severus paused, his face still, his voice broken. "Lucius."

His name, spoken like an imprecation, a benediction. Severus was ambiguity wrapped in a black cloak, homely face, and dark, sweet, bitterness. Lucius had asked once, in a fit of jealousy, after the Dark Lord died the first time, "Do you still love the Mudblood?"

Severus stiffened, just as he had a few moments ago, his only reply, "What do you think, Lucius?"

He could never tell what Severus thought. That was what made him dangerous and intriguing. He was slippery like a seal's skin, oil in water. Lucius shifted against the stone of the wall, slick with slime and salt. Severus left, not looking back to see Lucius sink back into blank despair.

_Children_

It had been children the Dark Lord sent him after...

&*&*&

It was September, the middle of the month in Severus' first year as Professor. Lucius stole to Severus' quarters in the dungeons after the late meeting of the Board of Governors. He carried a bottle of Ogdens from his own private stock, aged over the last fifty years or so. Celebration was due to both of them.

He knocked on the wooden door with the head of his cane. Lucius could imagine Severus' face, his baritone grumbling, his irritation at being disturbed. Lucius smiled in anticipation. 

The door swung open. Snape's ascetic face poked through the crack. He looked haunted. They all did these days, those who bore the Mark. Lucius pushed past him, entering the room, more a monk's cell than an abode. "Merlin, man, one would think you still lived in that hovel in Manchester."

Lucius plopped down on the aged settee, a relic from Slughorn's days, when Lucius still went to school. With false cheer, he said, "You should really have Cissy come to decorate for you. These digs are dismal."

Severus slouched against the wall, his hand splayed on the spines of the ever-present books on his table. "What is it, Lucius? I have papers to grade and dunderheads to save from themselves."

His voice was waspish, stinging Lucius with the impersonal tone of it. It had been thus between them since last spring and the debacle with the Mudblood and her bloodtraitor husband. Lucius suppressed his irritation as he set out the Ogdens. "I have news."

"It must be momentous," Severus said as his brows snaked to his hairline at the sight of the bottle. Lucius pulled two quartz pebbles from his pocket, laying them on the table and transfiguring them. It was a gesture that brought back memories of that first kiss, tentative and passionate. Severus' eyes glittered as he said, "Pour and tell. I know you're bursting."

Lucius sloshed two fingers in each of the transfigured glasses motioning Severus to sit with him. "Severus, why do you concern yourself with the day to day mundanities of this   
post? You know that when our Lord triumphs, you will have no need to labour."

"And until then, Lucius, I must eat. Power over life and death does not put food down my gullet." Severus quirked his dark brow as he sat. The younger man had aged. Severus was a mass of straining contradictions, Lucius' only conscience, even as the dark man broke laws for the good of the cause. That strain marred his brow, and deep lines were etched around his mouth. He appeared haggard, pale and tired. Lucius ached to smooth the lines. He looked away, suddenly afraid to let Severus see his naked longing, unwilling to see the contempt the younger man would hold him in if he did show it. That portion of their association was over. 

"The Dark Lord has made progress on the matter of the prophecy." Lucius felt the triumph of the statement even as a dark wyrm of doubt guilted through his stomach. "He has..."

"Don't!" Snape stood again, his eyes narrowed, his lips baring yellow, crooked teeth. "You are an idiot, Lucius. Do you truly think your name protects you with him? Did you see what he did to the man who failed him last meeting? Did you see what was left of the family? What if I were truly spying for the Old Fool?"

Lucius gulped the whisky, unable to put the images the scene invoked, like a burning shield, behind him. He had dreamt of the man and his wife; strung out, defiled in every way possible. He had watched as Bellatrix played with them, cat and mouse, as both Rabastan and Greyback took their pleasures with the daughter, Draco's age. "I merely wanted to say that he is closer to his goals."

"Indeed." Severus sat, a forced repose, if Lucius could tell by his stiff demeanour. A false smile ghosted past his lips. "That is heartening."

The fire crackled in the grate, a hissing pop, and then silence. Severus stirred himself. "Was that all, Lucius?"

He had turned his face away from him, his profile in stark, white relief against the gloom of the dungeon. Lucius devoured his features, wanting to memorise every plane anew. "I suppose so. I... I would have... chosen differently if I could have."

Severus looked at Lucius, his black eyes holes in the white of his face. "No, Lucius, you would not have. You have a wife and a son, the perfect life for one such as you."

Lucius poured a second glass of whisky, toying with it in the light of the candles, watching the liquid lick the sides of the glass then fall. Severus watched him, his hooded gaze glued to silver-pale fingers, hungry in its intensity. Lucius commanded with a twist of his lips, "Drink with me then, Severus, to my perfect life."

Severus raised his glass with a ironic smirk, and they drank in silence, each man lost in his own memories.

&*&*&

There were times after the war ended the first time that Lucius sought the company of other men in the sections of Muggle London catering to that particular need. He always brewed Polyjuice for the occasion, and always Obliviated the victim of his dark lust afterwards.

There had been one special boy, however, that came close to giving him the completion he needed. The boy had been no more than eighteen, lithe, dark, and homely. Lucius found him in the pub he frequented for such dark deeds. The boy had been slouching in a corner booth, sneering at the assembled lovelies, his hair spiked in an impossible amalgam of glue and grease, his eyes lined with kohl, and his lips painted black. He noticed Lucius noticing him, and he gave him a rude gesture, one that told Lucius that even though the boy might think he was at the pub to scoff, he wasn't. The boy slammed back his drink, a shot of something gold, and stood unsteadily, his loose black trousers sagging against the belts and chains which held them up. He slouched his way to the washroom, a look of disgust thrown at the groping couples positioned around the room. Lucius stood, tipping the barman who had come to know his face, even with his infrequent visits of late. The barman quirked his brow as Lucius left. "You be careful with that one, sir. He's dodgy, never been in before."

Lucius merely smiled and followed the boy to the back room. The boy was waiting for him, his sneer more a nervous tick than a real expression of contempt. It did not have the power that Severus' equally derisive expression did. "Whut're you followin' me for?"

Lucius stepped closer to the boy, who suppressed a gulp. He brought his cane up to the boy's face, the snake's head grazing the boy's fleshy lower lip. The silver came away black as Lucius dragged the head of it down the boy's chin and neck. A faint line of black appeared satisfyingly against the red of the boy's abused flesh. Lucius leaned to the boy's ear to whisper, "What a stupid question."

The boy's eyes flew open in outrage or lust. Lucius didn't care which, as long as the boy ended up on his knees before him, mouth to Lucius' aching cock. He jerked his head towards the exit. "I 'ope you 'ave a place."

Lucius inclined his head gracefully and led the boy out. He kept a small flat in the area for such purposes. He trailed behind Lucius, his heavy Doc Martens clunking in the streets, echoing off the warehouses that surrounded them. Lucius paused, waiting for the boy, suddenly wanting to know his name. He never wanted to know their names. The chosen were merely vessels for his cock, and then only after they had been Polyjuiced to appear how he wanted them. It was the only way he could fuck them, if they wore Snape's face, bore his body. This boy was different somehow. Lucius snapped, "Make haste, boy. I do not have all evening."

The boy snorted and rolled his eyes. "You 'ave a wife and kiddies to get back to? A toff like you always does."

The boy backed away, sliding between the shadows of the uncertainly flickering streetlights. Lucius followed, drawing close to the boy. He smelled of cigarettes, sweat, and a sweet, chemical odour. Lucius pinched the boy's chin, lifting it. The boy gasped but closed his eyes in anticipation of a kiss. Lucius smirked and took out a handkerchief, and began scrubbing the grease off the boy's lips. The young man pushed furiously at Lucius' chest, "'ey! Whot's yer problem?"

Lucius dipped his head, capturing the boy's mouth with his lips, silencing the angry words. The boy fought and Lucius pulled him closer, overpowering the younger man with his strength. It had been some time since a man had not fallen readily under Lucius' spell, the last one had been Severus. Once the boy quit struggling, Lucius withdrew. "You looked dead with that grease on your lips. Don't wear it again."

"I s'pose you've seen a lot of dead people, eh?" the boy spat, wiping his bruised lips with the back of his hand. 

"Yes," Lucius answered. "Now come along. I don't have all evening."

The boy walked beside him, and Lucius was aware of his scrutiny, not dark and glittering as Severus' had been, but intense nonetheless. As they came to Lucius' flat, the boy asked, "So is this to be a one off?"

Lucius opened the door with his key and let the boy into the tastefully furnished flat. "Strip."

Lucius crossed to a small bar in the corner, expecting immediate compliance. The boy huffed once, but proceeded to peel off his layers of substandard leather and cheap cotton, leaving on only his spiked dog collar and a leather wrist band. Lucius watched as the boy shivered in the cool of the room, his pale skin breaking out in goosebumps. It had been weeks since he had been to the flat. Lucius belted down his drink and poured one for the boy. He approached, hand in his pocket, fingering the flask of Polyjuice. The boy looked at him, his brown eyes wary. "M'name's Will. Whot's yers?"

Names are so unimportant, don't you think?" Lucius answered as he handed the glass to the boy. The boy, Will, stared at the glass before taking it, looking as if he expected poison instead of liquor. Suddenly Lucius was tired of the game, tired of wanting Severus, tired of taking Muggles as cheap substitutes. "I don't think this will work, Will. I shall compensate you for your time, but this will not even be a one off."

The boy seemed to shrink in on himself, and as he turned his back to Lucius to draw on his cotton pants, Malfoy saw faint white scars, burn marks, on the boy's back and shoulders. Lucius hissed, "You've been abused."

Will shrugged. "It happens when yer dad don't like you."

"I know," Lucius said. "Come Will, I spoke hastily."

He held out his hand to the boy, seeing the humanity in him for the first time. He was more than his lack of magical ability or his sludgy blood. Lucius drew the boy to him, letting the Polyjuice remain in his pocket, "Please me tonight, and we will see where this might lead."

The boy followed him to the bedroom.

&*&*&

The affair continued for two years. Lucius found that the boy, though undereducated, possessed an impressive native intellect and sensitivity. Lucius bought him art supplies so that he might pass the hours in their flat, the boy's first real home, according to Will. He allowed the boy the freedom to pursue his studies at an art school in the heart of London, going so far as to fund the boy's education. Lucius would return to the flat at odd intervals, generally timing his visits with Narcissa's frequent holidays to France and Italy. The boy accepted Lucius' absences uncomplainingly. It was Lucius' presence that caused their discord. The boy became restless, wanting to go out, wanting to see some of the posh places Lucius liked. Lucius could not show him for the obvious reasons, and their bitterest arguments occurred over the necessity for secrecy. Lucius dismissed the boy's feelings. He was only a Muggle. He would have given more consideration to the care of his prize rosebushes than the creature he slept with, no matter that Will proved repeatedly that he was equal to Lucius in everything but breeding and magical ability. It was fear in Lucius that kept him from accepting Will. Severus was convinced the Dark Lord would return. Until that event occurred, Lucius could not let his emotions rule him, no matter how much the boy pleased him.

It came as no surprise to him that the boy finally tired of Lucius' disregard. It pained him only a little that the poor Snape substitute left him with only a note and an oddly composed painting, jarringly static, but oddly lifelike. It was of Lucius in the bedroom, the sun playing in his hair as a shadowy figure stood in the background, the lines of the figure lean and hard. Smokestacks could be seen outside the window. 

Lucius sold the flat, but kept the painting. It reminded him of the folly of love.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading. Please take time to tell me what you think.


	6. The Traveller

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lucius begins his journey to find Snape.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapterw was red-moused by Jilliane.

Lucius spent the months after Narcissa's death dealing with the estate, settling her Black family holdings on Draco, and ensuring that his son could want for nothing. In August, he read that Draco had gotten married to a Greengrass in a civil ceremony. The girl was a squib, never having made it to Hogwarts, but from impeccable bloodlines nonetheless. Lucius stifled the dull ache at having to read of his son's nuptials in the Daily Prophet. Such was his life.

 

Potter visited in September, his manner hesitant as he told Lucius that the inquest had been conducted and no charges were to be filed against Malfoy. Narcissa's death, after all, had been as natural as one could expect given the Muggle medications she was on and that her will to live had fled her. As Potter was leaving he tugged on his forelock, as if to cover the scar given him by the Dark Lord, his own Dark Mark. "I'm sorry about... well, Draco will come around. Just give him time. He has a lot to... well, we all do. You understand?"

I do, Mr. Potter," Lucius said as he showed the boy out. Draco, he knew, would never forgive him. Lucius would never give him the chance.

Lucius spent less time in the Pensieve than he wanted. The quest for his perfect moment with Severus had become addictive. He remembered many things, but not that defining moment when Severus had been his and his alone. Perhaps it had never happened. The thought made his heart flutter and his hands shake. He needed that moment to be able to hang onto his meaningless life. In response to that yearning, Lucius took to wearing the cloak under his expensive mourning clothes, conducting his daily business with Severus as a mantle. It became his ash and sackcloth, his scourge.

In October he shut up the Manor, possibly for good this time, locking away the dark and light memories with his key, his wards, and his blood. Draco would be the only one who would be able to open it. If Lucius found Severus, he might return. If he did not, Draco would inherit much earlier than his son expected. Lucius was through with living this half existence. He would live or die on whether Severus had survived their putative Master's master stroke, and on whether Severus would accept him again, scarred and flawed as they both were. If the dark man chose not to, the Dark Lord would have one more death for which to suffer. Lucius would give his soul to keep him in the Azkaban he imagined the Dark Lord's afterlife to be. 

On the day he closed up the Manor, he obtained a Portkey to the farthest north region of the United Kingdom that had a safe wizarding port. Aberdeen was his destination. From there he would cross to Orkney on one of the Muggle ferries which serviced that route. He was cutting it close, this late in the season, the seas being high and rough from the closer John O'Groats, and Gill's Bay, in Pentlands. Lucius had never travelled by boat to anywhere, wizarding transport being so much more direct, but was constrained by his season of travel as well as lack of proper wizarding facilities in Orkney. Apparently the Princes had been the only wizarding family to come from those distant isles. Perhaps Snape's family had been more Pictish than Norse. Vikings were not known for their strong magic, having relied on brute force to take what they wanted rather than finessing the situation with magic. The Norse, however, were known for their werewolves. Lucius would be on his guard for those creatures in the archipelago. He would not be turned into one of those slavering beasts. It was bad enough that his supposed Veela and Dani blood was still talked about, it would not do for him to turn into Greyback revisited. Lucius may have been ruthless as a Death Eater, but he was never needlessly cruel.

&*&*&

Severus watched as Lucius washed, his eyes dark and avid. Narcissa would be returning tomorrow. The dark boy shivered as Lucius handled his own cock, sluicing water over it with a well-aimed Augamenti. Lucius turned to him, his grey eyes stormy. "Come to me, Severus. Let me wash you."

Severus rose, his lithe, pale body shimmering in the wan sunlight that washed the filth of the abandoned factory nearly clean. He approached Lucius, his need evident in the hardening of his body. Lucius touched him reverently, washing their exertions from Snape's body before he knelt before him. Severus hissed, "Lucius."

He took Severus in his mouth, lavishing his considerable skill upon the glistening organ until the dark boy pulled on his hair, bringing Lucius to a halt. It was their last day together and the older man knew what Severus wanted. The boy forced Lucius on his back, propping his legs up on his shoulders as he entered him roughly. He possessed him entirely as he gazed into Lucius' eyes, plundered Lucius' mouth, and took Lucius' love. Only when he had finished did he bring Lucius off with his own skilled mouth. When Lucius came, it was with an explosion of colour, light, and growling sound. Tears mixed with spunk as Severus swallowed. Lucius felt them hot on his belly. It was their last day together and at that moment, all they wanted was each other. That afternoon would have to be good enough to last a lifetime.

&*&*&

Lucius jerked awake in his room, a Muggle hotel close to the train station to which his Portkey had taken him. He reached for the bedside table blindly, his cock and balls tight and aching. The clock said it was four in the morning. Too early to summon breakfast from the hotel's kitchens, too early to bring his fist to his loins and finish himself off. He would bear the aching pain for a few more hours. It would be his penance for wanting something so badly. When he returned to his room, he would fist himself off, dreaming of the day that his aching loneliness would end.

He showered, letting the spray of water wash the remaining sleep from his eyes. Once done and properly dressed in his Muggle attire, he sat and flipped through the channels of the television, wondering idly how the Muggle machine worked, and if it were possible to create a similar wizarding product. He stayed away from the machine, having learned that drawing too close caused the picture to scramble and the volume to fluctuate wildly. 

He flipped through the stations until a woman with shellacked hair and a false smile stole his attention. She was reading the news, her demeanour, no matter what the horror she spoke of, never changing from cool and impersonal. Lucius hated her instantly. He flipped to another station. A Muggle caricature of a wizard was being chased by Muggles through a village, they wanted something from him which he was unwilling to provide, apparently. Lucius snapped the button again and watched a scandalous programme about scantily clad Americans on a beach, all of whose main occupation seemed to be running in slow motion and saving imbeciles from themselves. Lucius pressed the _off_  
button and the television went blank. He lay back on the duvet and dozed.

He woke again when a maid entered the room saying, "Oh, I'm sorry, sir, I didn't know you were here."

Except her words were obscured by her Doric accent. It took Lucius moments to translate before he rose. "No need to apologise."

He swept up his cloaks and strode out of the room, knowing the woman's admiring eyes were upon him. His shoulders itched where she stared. 

Once out of the hotel, he let his footsteps take him where they would. He ended up at a small cafe on a corner where he might look out on the bustling street scene and the pristine buildings. Aberdeen was an interesting mixture of old world charm and modern ugliness. Lucius yearned once again for the familiar wizarding world]

He ordered an espresso and a small breakfast quiche. He was the only one in the cafe and so was interested in the commerce of the facility. He looked at the quiche, slowly flaking the crust with his fork, when the bell rang and two men entered. The smaller, darker man was carrying a child, his back turned to Lucius as the toddler waved over his shoulder at him. They seated themselves, their backs to Lucius, the child between them. The boy turned and smiled at Lucius shyly while the two men talked, an air of intimacy surrounding them. The lad was dark-skinned, about four years old, and quite handsome. Lucius smiled tightly at the boy as the darker of the two men leaned in and kissed the taller, ginger-haired man. Lucius looked away with a grimace, his heart lurching painfully as he returned to his observance of the street scene. Morning bustle had begun and the foot traffic had increased. Lucius pulled out a small notebook to jot down what he would need to purchase before he embarked on the final leg of his journey to find Severus. 

He had finished his list when he noticed the couple stand to leave. The darker man turned toward Lucius and paled. Will's lips parted and he croaked, "Lucius."

With a sinking feeling, Lucius rose, plastering a false, strained smile on his face. "William, so nice to see you again

The ginger-haired man paused before returning his attention to the child, his green eyes sharp as he tugged on the boy's coat over a bulky jumper. He picked up the child and stood behind Will, his stance proprietary as he placed his hand on the dark man's back. Lucius threw a wad of pound notes on the table. As he drew on his kidskin gloves, he said, "This is quite unexpected. I had no idea you were in Aberdeen. The last I saw you was in London. I believe you left before you could have the courtesy to break it off with me face to face

Will looked as if he had been slapped, and the ginger's eyes flashed dangerously. The redhead said in that peculiar accent of the region, "Is this the bloke you told me about?"

Will nodded as he patted the ginger's hand away. "Yes." He took a tentative step forward, his hands raised in supplication. "I never got to thank you for all you did for me, Lucius."

"And I never fully appreciated you, William," Lucius answered, the anger that had risen at being surprised replaced by regret. "I never treated you well."

"No, you didn't," Will answered with a weak smile. "You never did. I would like you to meet my partner, Brendan. Brendan, this is Lucius Malfoy."

The ginger's expression flickered between protectiveness and jealousy before it settled into guarded affability. "Nice to meet you. Will, we have to open the gallery. I have clients coming in to see your work."

Lucius inclined his head graciously before he said, "Delighted to make your acquaintance. Will, I wish you well."

The two men left the cafe, Will burrowed in his partner's arms. Lucius watched them traverse the street before he left the cafe. He was shaken.

&*&*&

Service to the Dark Lord had become onerous. The duties asked of Severus especially, due to his blood status, had been particularly distasteful. Lucius watched in dismay as the dark man succumbed to the strain. Severus' body was always taut, his expression always grim, and his consumption of alcohol had increased exponentially. The younger man looked old before his time. Severus had taken the Mark right after exiting Hogwarts. The Dark Lord had commanded Lucius to bring him to a revel, and Lucius knew better than to disobey.

It seemed that the Dark Lord wanted to punish Severus for being half-blood, poor, and homely. All things that he could no more help than Lucius could change his status. 

Severus had returned to his hovel in Manchester after leaving Hogwarts, eking out a living with the common potions he was qualified to prepare for various distributors. He had also been assigned to complete several rather Dark potions for their Lord, and was working under that strain also. Just before Severus returned home for the final time, his mother had been the victim of her husband's ire only a week before. His father had escaped to regions unknown. Muggles rarely paid for killing wizards. It was difficult for the Muggle authorities to prosecute a person for the murder of an entity who did not exist. The Ministry had its own constraints against prosecution of Muggle malefactors.

Lucius returned to the city of his greatest love affair with more than a little trepidation. He had not returned since that last day they spent together so many months ago. He fingered the packet of letters that had been owled to him from a Potions Master in Wales who was willing to accept an apprentice. Lucius had decided to fund Severus' education. He could not stand to see Severus wasting himself.

He raised his hand to knock on the door at the darkened entryway, hoping that Severus was home and not off on some mission for the Dark Lord. The apprenticeship contract had a time limit and needed to be completed within the day or it would be null and void. 

The door swung open and Severus' thin face poked out from the gloomy recesses of the house. 

"Lucius."

He had been drinking. Lucius could smell the alcohol on his breath, could see the effects in his wavering stance and his bloodshot eyes. He had been crying, a thing Lucius never thought to see. He pushed past Severus into the parlour _cum_ sitting area. He had never been allowed in the house before and he could now see why, with the shabby nature of the dwelling. It had an air of neglect, decay and despair, much like the surrounding environs in which it was situated. Lucius tried not to sniff at the room's decor. It was not fit for swine, much less a wizard. He presented the packet to Severus, and he spread the sheets of parchment out on the rickety table. "I have come with a commission for you. It should enable you to support yourself whilst you serve our Master."

Severus wavered between outrage and guarded gratitude before settling on haughty disdain as he looked at the missives spread out before him. "Is this payment for services rendered?" His black browns creased. "I'm not a whore, Lucius

Don't be crass, Severus," Lucius said, feeling the barbed words in the form of a dull, thudding pain in his chest. "There has been talk about your lack of participation in the revels."

Severus slumped against the seat, his hands falling between his legs, still gripping the parchment. "You know why I couldn't."

The girl looked like Potter's wife, is that it?" Lucius felt his lips twist derisively as he fought to control the sharp sense of betrayal that had crept into his mind. "You still love her?"

"I always will, Lucius. Just as you will always have your wife." Severus answered coolly. His black gaze darted to Lucius, unreadable and pain-filled. "Do not presume to dictate what emotions are appropriate between us. You have no right."

Lucius strode to Severus, conjuring a fully inked quill. "Sign the damned papers. I can't stand to see you waste away as you are doing."

"I loved you, you know," Severus said in answer. "I think I always will. You were my first and I thank you for that. I...I never loved her like I do you."

"Do not ply me with false sentiments, Severus," Lucius said, striding to the door. "You need do nothing after they are signed. They are charmed to register at the Ministry's adjunct office in Wales." Lucius modulated his tone to one of mild, drawling concern. "Sign them, Severus, for me. I can't... You need this."

He left the slatternly house and never returned. Lucius could not stand the thought of Severus' love when he had brought the Dark Lord's notice on the younger man. Lucius had a feeling things were going to get much worse for all Death Eaters in the coming years. He hoped they could survive.

&*&*&

Lucius was to embark on his final leg of the journey early that morning. He readied himself to board the ferry with his backpack filled with light items that he might carry and look as if he belonged in the Muggle world. All of his other belongings were spelled and in his pockets. He donned the denim trousers and heavily cabled jumper, tied his hair back, and then transfigured his cloak and Severus' to a more acceptable Muggle pea coat. He looked in the mirror of his lonely room before he departed, wondering at the strange creature that looked back at him. He had never worn Muggle clothing before, yet he thought it suited him. He drew on his boots, lace-ups, not button, on which he had incanted a liquid-repelling charm. It was one which Severus had invented during their days under the Dark Lord, to repel blood and other effluviates from the victims of their revels.

He had a twelve hour trip by ferry, from Aberdeen to Kirkwall, and then he would begin his search of the uninhabited islands of the archipelago, the ones most likely to hide a magical dwelling. Fortunately, Orkney had only been home to one magical family throughout the thousand or so years since recorded history. The Princes seemed to be the only ones hardy enough or foolish enough, to brave the climate, the isolation, and the lack of amenities. The atmosphere that he had read about on the archipelago suited Severus' temperament, Lucius thought with a wry grimace.

One more look in the mirror and he was out the door. The beginning or the end of his life depended on what he found on this journey. Lucius didn't really know which ending he wished for, only that the ache for Severus would end.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading. Please take time to tell me what you think.


	7. Man

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lucius acquires unexpected friends and finds peace amongst the ruins.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was red-moused by Jilliane.

Lucius acquired a boat and a dog in Whitehall, on the island of Stronsay. The boat, more of a skiff with a flat bottom and a small motor, was purchased from a fisherman who looked doubtfully at Lucius, but accepted his money nonetheless. Lucius had been assured by the former owner that it would do well for the short voyages he planned. He spent days outfitting the small boat with anti-sinking, waterproofing, and specially devised compass charms that would ensure he was always able to get to port, regardless of his lack of experience. When he was satisfied, he turned his attention to further preparations.

The dog, a medium-sized black mongrel with a large head, short black fur, and powerful jaws, had happened upon him one day as he made his way from the dock back to the house he had rented. Lucius had shooed it away at first, wanting nothing to do with the animal, but it had persisted, following him around the small town as he conducted his business. It waited for him outside the post office as he purchased the necessary documents and licences to become a boat operator. It sat outside the library of the heritage centre as he conducted his research on the best place to start his voyage, and it followed him home. It was not a slavish dog. It had a keen intelligence to its eyes and a definite do not touch aura that lent it an air of rakishness heretofore unknown to dogs in Lucius' limited acquaintance with the breed. The animal also did not lick his privates or turn around three times before he slept, and was a rather finicky eater, preferring one more expensive kibble over another. He was a singular dog, catlike in his movements and tasteful in his appearance. Lucius, after a week of the animal's diffident stalking, dubbed the dog Man. He took him to a Muggle veterinarian and a reputable groomer after enquiring of his landlady the proper (thoroughly Muggle) manner of care for the creature. She had required an additional deposit, but directed him happily enough once the transaction was completed, clucking over his ignorance as he tightly explained he had limited experience with animals. 

"A boy always needs a dog," she said in parting. "It helps him grow to a proper man."

Man was the first pet Lucius had owned since his childhood and the disastrous episode with the kitten. The owls he owned were tools, nothing more. Lucius was vaguely concerned, in the manner of all people adopted by pets for the first time, when he made a trip off island. He had locked Man up in the small yard, left food and water out for him, having already purchased shelter for the animal, a device called a Dogloo. It was a round house with a small opening and a flap to keep out the almost constant northerly winds on the island. Lucius made his way to the docks with more than a few misgivings. Man, it seemed, had a different idea about Lucius' solitary voyage, and had beaten him to the wharf. He awaited Lucius, sitting with kingly pride of place, in the bow of the skiff. From then on, Lucius took Man with him on his jaunts.

He spent the night on the holm in his tent, Man resting at his feet. They returned after finding no traces of magic other than the remnants left by the ancient Pictish runes carved crudely into a rock on the island. Lucius had hoped, when he felt the power emanating from the island, that his search was over, but alas, the magic still powerful after almost a millennium, was carved in rock and covered in lichen, not formed of flesh and blood. It had felt so like Snape's magic however, and that heartened Lucius.

The next holm they went to contained standing stones and an ancient cairn; a house of stone set just below the surface of the land on three sides, with an opening in the centre to allow ingress and egress. The roof, probably once of thatch or hide, was long gone, but remnants of furnishings built of stone gave a tantalising glimpse into the ancient builders. Lucius felt a continuity with those long ago and far away people that he had never felt with the builders of the standing stones further south. Lucius spent the day with Man, scouring the ruins, dodging the odd gull and, keeping warm. He realised, after he returned to his snug little house in Whitehall, that he had enjoyed himself, and had felt his yearning hunger for his dark friend only in passing, as if it was removed from him on that island. He thought he might have been content for a moment.

He spent Yule in Whitehall, feasting on turkey, mushy vegetables, and potatoes provided by his garrulous neighbor, an older lady with iron grey curls and a hawkish gaze, whose husband and son had been lost at sea, victims of the fishing trade. She prattled on about life during the war, a Muggle one in which genocide had occurred, and one that had changed the course of Muggle history. Her husband had been Jewish, and had escaped certain death by hiding in an attic in Denmark, battling the Axis with the resistance until the Americans and British came. It was through that contact that he came to Britain, and ultimately found her. She stated cryptically, at least to Lucius, that she had never properly converted to Judaism, but still observed Shabbat in remembrance of her husband and her son. 

Lucius felt uncomfortable hearing about the genocide. Had the Dark Lord's aims been met, he would not be now sitting in an overstuffed chair that smelled of naphtha, in a fusty parlour with this Muggle woman eating at her table and hearing her stories. He might well have seen to the construction of the same type of concentration camps she had described, and the thought chilled him. He had never known any Muggles before, aside from Will, and his contact with them had been limited to brief sexual encounters and humiliating torture. Once his innate curiosity, deadened after years of his father's attention, flared to life, he found he wanted to know more about them. He began reading their literature and history, and listening to their music. Though it was still alien to him, he found he could appreciate their art forms, in a vaguely superior way.

&*&*&

He spent the turn of the New Year in his own manner, foregoing the rather frenetic Muggle celebrations in the town proper; the ba game, a hurly burly contest that made no sense to him, and later, fireworks. He opted for a more traditional wizarding contemplation of his year, in front of a fire built in a pit on the island with the cairn. He came away from his meditations mildly depressed but hopeful. He felt Severus was near, even though he had not yet found him. Perhaps in the coming weeks he would be able to at least learn Snape's fate. He took comfort in that, not daring to think that the man was dead. He simply could not be. Lucius felt his presence, his magical energy, in these far northern reaches with its bitter winters and diffident people.

He looked at the map spread before him, marked in two colours, lit up with the islands he had already visited. Those he would return to, he had marked with a bit of red. Those he would not, were marked with white. The light from the bonfire flickered in the steady breeze, and Man grumbled at his feet. He had two islands in this area yet to see. One, Linga Holm, had been inhabited by Muggles in the nineteenth century. Local legend said the Muggles left because of the strange fey lights that tempted their womenfolk to stray, to disappear, and to come back big with child, unable to say where they had been or what they had done. Lucius thought this a likely spot for a wizarding family. He had heard the legend only a week ago, and cursed himself for his lack of contact with the locals. If he had been less shy, less disdainful of interactions with the natives, he might have saved himself months of searching. 

Yet, even with that thought, he did not regret his time away from the only world he had ever known. Somehow, the foreign setting had made him appreciate what he had more than he could have if he had been able to find Severus by magical means. He would be going to Linga Holm tomorrow. He looked down at his still grumbling dog. 

"Man, it's time for bed. Come."

The dog seemed to arch his brow, then followed him, settling at his feet as Lucius secured the Muggle sleeping bag around himself. Sleep came easily that night.

&*&*&

Lucius set out for Linga Holm after packing and shrinking his belongings. He had a good feeling about the destination. The sun was still rising, a red-tinged orb in a lavender-clouded sky, when Man climbed into the bow and they embarked. Lucius laughed, the first joyous sound from him in years, as Man barked at passing wildlife. The dog looked behind to Lucius, his tongue lolling, his warm, brown eyes carrying the same spark of good humour as his master's. By necessity, their journey would be a long one. If Lucius had left from Whitehall, he could have reached the island in less than two hours, even given the rough state of the sea. That he had left from further south added to his time. 

He set the spells that he would need to navigate and then rested, covering his eyes with the cap he had bought in Whitehall at the beginning of his travels, and draping Severus' cloak over his body so that he could smell the bitter herb of his friend along with the fresh salt air. He dreamt of flying as Voldemort had done. He skirted the islands, swooping low over the lands that were dotted with hard, white snow. He followed a pod of porpoises or dolphins, he could not tell the difference between the two sleek, grey forms. He watched as a basking shark fed, it's large body floating gracefully on top of the water. He saw the seals, the selkies of legend, dancing gracefully in the water as they fucked and fought and searched for food. He dreamt in greys, blues, and greens, of earth, air, water, and sky. He dreamt of what might have been, had he been born without Malfoy branded on his soul. He laughed as he swooped, sure the Dark Lord had never felt the joy that Lucius did as he flew. In the south, Lucius could see the red pain of his own misery and his son's, but here, under the blue sky, above the grey-green water, all he could feel was the Lucius he should have always been and never was. He felt tears on his face...

It was the rain that woke him as the skiff pitched up and down in the roughened sea. Man had retreated to his side, and Lucius fought to cast the spells that would keep both of them safe. He tried to assure the dog with a calm voice, but the wind ripped his voice from his mouth. He steadied the dog against him with a swift pat to his head, and then cast his spells again. There was no effect as the ocean pitched and rolled. Lucius fought his nausea long enough to secure Severus' cloak around his person and his wand in its sheath and then...

Llyr, the sea god, swallowed them. Man was the first to bob to the surface of the churning sea, pulling Lucius up as he swam to a shore in the distance. Lucius coughed, fought the pull of the freezing water, and strove to keep up with Man. It seemed that Llyr had other ideas as he pulled at Lucius' heavy wool jumper, ripped Severus' cloak from his body, and pounded him under time and again. 

Lucius just barely caught the cloak as it was ripped away from him. The ocean heaved again, pushing Lucius under. He cried out as he surfaced, noticing that Man had doubled back to him, dragging at his arm with his teeth. Blood sullied the water around them before the red disappated. The undertow caught at the cloak and ripped it out of Lucius' hands. He gave a cry, the pain of the loss so deep that he shed four tears before he could get control of himself. It felt as if a booming gong shook the air, and the water and the world shifted. Once again, the water rose and enveloped him in its cold, wet depths, and this time, Lucius gave into it. He closed his eyes and took the darkness into him. He would fight no more.

&*&*&

He remembered small hands on his face. He remembered the smell of bitter herbs, fire, and smoke under the odour of wet dog and ocean water. He remembered flashes of light and dark, of being carried. He remembered a scornful, husky voice saying, " _Feckless idiot,_ " the words cloaked in frustrated wonder.

He slept to the music of a small household; the clatter of pots, whispered childish confidences, lovingly issued commands. He tasted broth as it burned his lips, smelled milk on a child's breath as it leaned in close to give him a potion, saw the red-black of his eyelids closed to the light. 

When he woke again, he could not open his eyes. He tried to speak, but his voice was lost. He finally moved his finger. It was then that he heard a rustling of wool, smelled the damp of the room. 

Warm, long-fingered hands pulled him to a seated position, and a bottle was thrust against his lips. Lucius drank the bitter mixture down. The magic of the creation blasted through his body, leaving him hot and irritable. He raised feeble hands and pushed the vial away. A deep, rasping voice grumbled, and the potion bottle returned to his lips. "Drink. Don't be a fool."

Lucius did as the voice commanded, and fell back to slumber before the hands lowered him. If he could have opened his eyes, he would have felt the weight of a darkly smouldering gaze upon him.

&*&*&

He dreamt of Severus. Not as he was in his youth, all angles and hunched shoulders, not the nightmare he had become as an adult. He dreamt of an ideal Severus, one who had lost the lines of strain around his mouth, and did not have his brow drawn down in a permanent scowl. A Severus who had put on healthy weight and seemed content in his skin, rather than twitching and fidgety. 

He dreamt of a Severus who smiled at a little girl with black eyes and a silver sheen to her sleek, black hair. Severus glanced lovingly at a figure in the corner. It was one Lucius did not want to see, so he ignored it. As he turned his attention fully on Severus, he realised that this was an idealised Severus, one that might have been had things been different. It was Severus if there had been no Dark Lord, no Lily Evans, and no Lucius Malfoy. 

In his dream, he hovered above a domestic scene out of one of the Muggle novels he had read to fill the inclement days in Whitehall. Severus became at once Mr. Rochester, Heathcliff, and the dashing Mr. Darcy. Lucius saw Man there before the fire, his leg bandaged and the little girl smoothing fingers through his rough coat. In his dream, he watched as Severus read aloud in the flickering candlelight, a silver band on his left ring finger flashing. His deep voice was at once familiar in its tone, but strange in its timbre. Lucius watched from his corner of the ceiling as Severus paused, his eyes darting to a curtain shrouded opening. Lucius hovered over Severus as he saw the naked longing that crossed the dark man's features. The girl interrupted, and Severus cleared his throat before resuming his recitation. 

In a far corner of the tiny room a silver-haired woman watched, her limpid eyes dark and sad. She clutched a dark, water-stained cloak against her. Severus smiled sadly at her as she rose. He broke in his reading, his expression at once bleak and tender. "Be careful, darling. You are unused to the weather now."

The woman nodded and cast a longing look at the girl by the fire before saying, "I love you. I always will."

Severus closed the book with a snap, and then withdrew the ring from his finger. He placed it on the table as the girl climbed into his lap. Lucius swirled away, not wanting to see the scene, not wanting to see their completeness when he was so bereft. 

Lucius hovered a bit longer, and then chose to fly outside. It was neither warm nor cold to him as he swooped over the land of the small island. He turned and hovered, spying the whitewashed hut he had exited, bone-pale in the moonlight that washed it. Above, Lucius saw the Northern Lights and he danced with them, the colours suffusing his soul in a joyous pattern. Lucius had never felt so free, and yet so constrained, as he looked far down at the house, now a white dot. He heard a distant barking, Man calling him to return, telling Lucius in his own way that he was both needed and wanted, and suddenly... 

He was awake, his soul tied once more to his aching body. Lucius stretched experimentally, feeling weakened beyond what he had ever felt under the Dark Lord's worst punishment. He hummed experimentally, clearing his throat.

" _Da!_ " A girl's voice sounded. "He's awake."

She poked her head through the curtain, a cloth strangely reminiscent of the one in his dream. He saw the silver sheen of her hair, an unusual colour, the blackness of her eyes, mirrors of her father's, and Lucius sobbed. His dream had been real. 

He had found Severus Snape, and it was too late. 

He had not waited for Lucius.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Information on Orkney was gleaned from both Google Earth (my absolute favorite), Wikipedia, and a site called orkneyjar.com. That site has links to not only selkie legends but also archeaological, travel, and dialect information. 
> 
> Ba games are actually played in Kirkwall on New Years and Christmas, but I liked the idea of Lucius avoiding that particular Muggle pleasantry.
> 
> Stronsay is pronounced "Strawn-see". 
> 
> Man is no particular breed of dog, but I picture him a pitbull and chow mix, with a little lab thrown in for sweetness. I can see a dog like that adopting Lucius.
> 
>  
> 
> Thanks for reading. Please take the time to let me know what you think.


	8. Home Again

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lucius finds Severus.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to Jilliane for her valiant red-mousing of this chapter.

In the half-life that Lucius had lived for the entirety of his existence, to see Severus and yet know that he still could not have him was beyond agonising. Lucius spent the first weeks of his recovery inside the little room, communicating sullenly with the girl, whose name was Eir. She proudly told Lucius she was named after the the healing goddess in old Norse, all said with the lisp of a child who had just lost two milk teeth in a short period of time. She and Man had become fast friends, and the dog followed her wherever she went, only returning to sleep a Lucius' feet at night. It seemed that Lucius had lost even his animal to the Snape family.

When Severus entered the room to administer potions, Lucius turned from him, feigning sleep, using his bitter disappointment as a shield against the man's presence. He knew that his reaction was not right, not the adult way of handling his emotions, but it was what it was. Lucius had spent years in the bosom of a loving family. He had had a son and a wife for the majority of his adulthood. Shouldn't he have afforded Severus the same comforts? The resounding answer in Lucius' heart was no. He'd had to sacrifice his happiness for them as much as Severus had sacrificed his happiness for Evans.

It could never be said that Lucius was a fair man.

In the ledger of his life, his own system of checks and balances, Lucius had paid for Severus. He had given his heart, soul, and bloody body to have the last part of his life with the one person who had understood him. The one person who had never given a damn what Lucius could give him in the commerce of his social position, instead giving to Lucius what he needed. And now, he had to watch Severus live the life Lucius had wanted to give him. 

Lucius was in bed for a fortnight, too weak to move. Each time Severus attempted to talk to him, Lucius turned away, feigned sleep, or merely stared straight ahead. When the time came for him to rise, he went only as far as the chair in the corner of the drab little room. Eir quit trying to speak to him, instead looking at him with a mournful countenance and knowing eyes. Her expression was well older than her seven or so years. Severus merely scowled and groused at him, and went about taking care of Lucius in his own inimical way.

Lucius never saw the silver-haired woman again. She had never shown any interest in her unexpected house guest and Lucius never expressed an interest in seeing her. It was a a social blunder that he did not mean to rectify. He did not wish to see the woman that had stolen Snape ( His!) from him. 

His fourth week brought Severus to his room, all scowls and coldness, the type he had reserved for his snakes during his tenure as Head of Slytherin. "Lucius, this attitude of yours is not becoming. It is time you came out of this room and joined us for at least meals."

Lucius turned from him, deciding that if he ignored the man, he would go away. Severus did not. He knelt in front of Lucius, taking his hand in his own. "I know you think all is lost... but it's not. Please, Lucius, let's just talk."

Lucius felt an embarrassing rush of tears and bit his tongue to keep from shedding them. He would not disgrace himself. "You married."

"Yes," Severus answered, the simple, brutal answer tearing at Lucius heart, cutting the battered flesh with the words. 

Lucius nodded and then sneered as best he could, "I suppose you love her?"

"It's complicated." Severus' scowl deepened but his rasping voice softened, "Come out, Lucius. When you are ready, we will speak."

Lucius did come out, first sitting by the fire, and then venturing outside the confines of the cottage, but he did not speak. Instead, he occupied himself with the potions texts that sat in floor to ceiling shelves. The woman was never in attendance, and he breathed easier without her presence. Severus remained cool but solicitous, ever the gracious host with the materials he had available in the small cottage by the sea. He attempted to speak to Lucius time and again, but was rebuffed. He finally retreated to his own version of hurt feelings, with snapping and vicious digs. Lucius acted as if the comments slid off of him, did not hurt him, but each cross word spoken left a scar on his shattered heart.

Lucius found that his boat had weathered the storm that had brought him to the island. Severus had moved the motor to an outbuilding and turned the skiff over next to his own sailboat, on the small sandy beach. Lucius inspected it, releasing the spells that had made it seaworthy, planning his end. 

Man had followed him to the shore, curious about his master's work, sniffing for dormant mussels, bringing back great strings of kelp, and chasing terns. Lucius sat at the beach, watching the sea's churning as the sun sank low in the sky. The bitter tears that had clogged his throat so painfully the last four weeks, making breathing nearly impossible, fell then and Man butted up against him, lending him his warmth and his furry comfort. 

Lucius did not return that night to the dwelling, and paid for it the next day with a rasping cough and blocked lungs. Severus was in a towering rage when he discovered Lucius on the beach at sunrise. It was the first time he had turned his wrath on Lucius in years.

&*&*&

Severus bundled him off to bed, and then sat in the room as Lucius alternately shivered and burned with a renewed fever. The man began by uttering muffled oaths as he Accio'ed Pepper Up and fever reducing potion. Lucius swallowed the potions, spluttering and pulling a face at their combined tastes. Severus merely left, returning with another vial of thick, red syrup. "It's for your cough. Drink it, you bloody imbecile. Though I don't know why I'm trying."

Lucius drank the potion down in two swallows, stopping to cough weakly between the first and the second portion. When he was through, Severus jerked the bottle from his weak grasp and threw it against the wall. It shattered wetly, leaving a patch on the plaster that looked like blood. "I want to know what you expected when you came here, looking for me after... I take it Narcissa has asked for a divorce, and so you've come running to me to pick up the emotional pieces as I've always done with you."

Lucius turned away only to feel Severus lean over him, the dark man's hands on either side of his head. He loomed over Lucius, and as he spoke, his breath stirred the fine hairs on the older man's face. "I am sick to death of being the last resort, Lucius."

"You... are my only..." Lucius bit off his words, his voice sounding as broken as his heart. "When it was reported that you had died... I couldn't believe..."

Severus sat back suddenly, his face a mask of shock. He laughed, a brittle sound that crashed and clattered against Lucius' buzzing ears. "Dead? I thought... All these years I assumed... she said she had told the Aurors..." he ended the stuttering series ineffectually with, "I don't take the Prophet anymore."

Severus covered his face with his hands. Lucius watched as his shoulders hunched and he assumed the shape of the ugly little boy that he had been all those years ago. Love swelled in Lucius' heart, with the same knife-like intensity it had in their youths. He suppressed a croupy cough and found that whatever Severus' emotional state, he was still as much a bastard as he had always been. That fact made Lucius warm to him more than if Severus had used kind words and soft caresses. It was familiar. He fixed Lucius with his black gaze, making him feel like a crawling insect. "So, how is the family, Lucius?"

"Draco is married, and I wasn't invited to attend the nuptials," he said. "Narcissa died in June, and I wish I had gone with her."

Severus recoiled as if slapped and then rose, his face white. He strode out of the room without a backwards glance. Lucius did not see him the rest of the day.

&*&*&

In the end, it was the girl who told Lucius the story of her parents. It seemed that the only way a Prince could produce magical offspring was to take a Selkie to wife or to husband. The girl was proud of her Selkie blood and her eyes glinted as she said it, their dark surface so like her father's. She related to Lucius that a long time ago, before Eir was even born, Great-grandfather Prince had died, leaving instructions to his only grandchild ("Da said he hated him"), that he would replenish the Princes on the island. He was to return and be tied to the land, or the land would die. Severus had complied in his own way, marrying his silver-haired Selkie bride and creating Eir, before returning to his duties. He had sickened then, during his time away, but continued his tooth and nails fight against 'the bad man' (whose name Eir always forgot) by force of will alone. When the war ended, the Selkie-bride had taken her dying husband from the Shrieking Shack, having given some of her own magic to save him, and returned to the island. Eir's mother had been dying from lack of contact with her own kind when Lucius showed up on shore, but miraculously got better when her Selkie skin washed up with him. The girl said, in a tone of the gravest confidence, that her mummy had returned to her family in the sea, and that she wasn't to be sad. Especially now that Father was happy and Man had come to their island. Lucius too, she said, after a moment's consideration.

Eir told the story of her parents as if it were an oft-repeated fairytale, charming Lucius with the narrative, even as he realised that it changed little and everything all at once. It was as if the story had somehow encompassed him, and he could not help to wonder how the skin had washed up with him. He had read that Selkies kept their skins close by so that they would not endanger their lives.

The girl had crawled up on the bed during the telling, nestling in Lucius' arms as if she had a right to do so, and he didn't have the strength of will to push her away. She felt right in his arms, half-sprawled on the bed, her stockinged feet tucked under her woollen robes. He fell asleep as she babbled on about her day, Man's antics, and her studies. 

Lucius woke to a cramping arm and a sticky child clinging to him. Severus stood in the doorway, his shirtsleeves rolled to the elbows, the twin of Lucius' own scar exposed. His expression gelled into the more familiar cautious disdain that he usually wore as he noticed Lucius looking back at him. "I thought the girl might be bothering you."

"No," Lucius answered in a low voice. "She told me some interesting stories today."

Severus crossed his arms over his chest. "Should I be concerned?"

"Should I?" Lucius returned, not able to meet Severus' intense gaze. 

In two strides, Severus traversed the room and claimed Lucius' mouth in a searing kiss, his mouth rough and hard in the taking. Eir stirred, and Severus broke their contact. He traced his stained fingers over Lucius' mouth, his touch almost reverent. "God's I've wanted to do that for so long, at least since you washed up on shore."

Lucius gave a shaky laugh. "It's been longer for me. I am older than you, you know."

"Da?" Eir said, stretching like a kitten, her pink lips forming a perfect 'O' as she yawned. She hugged Lucius before slipping from the bed. "I like Mr. Malfoy, can he stay with us?"

"I've left my old life behind. Draco will inherit if I don't return in a year. I will be presumed dead." Severus hesitated as he looked over his daughter's head to Lucius. Malfoy smiled as innocently as he could. "You don't want to disappoint the girl, Severus."

Severus quirked his brow in question, but then gave a swift, almost imperceptible nod, his eyes on Lucius'. "We shall see, Eir. If Lucius wants to remain with us, he is certainly welcome. Unless he wishes to carry out his more final plans." Severus' eyes shuttered for a moment, glinting with dark light. Lucius looked away, but took Severus' hand in his. Snape turned his attention to his daughter, saying, "Now, go wash up. Dinner is ready."

&*&*&

They spent weeks getting to know each other again, exchanging details that had had to go unsaid between them during the war. Every moment was an exploration of their desire as they resisted giving into the physical side of their relationship. They had both been wounded by one another over the years and had never had the time to explore each other properly. It seemed like a honeymoon to them both, though they did not make love in that time. Instead, their caresses became a contest, a titillating game to see which lover would beg for the other first. Lucius spent most of his nights in an agonising state of arousal, and Severus , he suspected, was in much the same state. 

There was much work to complete on the island. Kelp had to be gathered and dried for sale to the potions market in England, and for to fuel the house in the winter.

One evening as they lay abed, after a day of kelp gathering, Severus asked, "Were you disappointed that I fought against the Dark Lord?"

"No," Lucius answered after some consideration. "I was glad. It meant that I had not ruined the best that was in you."

Severus, who held Lucius in his arms, gave a ghost of a smile in the gloom. "You ruined me long before I became a Death Eater, Lucius. I knew on some level, even as a first year, that you pursued me. I grew up in a neighbourhood where more predatory relationships between older and younger boys were condoned. It was the price of protection for the younger boys."

"Were you ever used like that?" Lucius felt a hot rush of hatred at the thought.

Severus gave a husky deprecating laugh, "No. You were my first, Lucius in all things. I never understood what you saw in me."

Lucius remained silent. How could he tell this dark, homely man that he was Lucius' world and make Severus believe it? How did one put that into words without sounding maudlin and overwrought? Instead Lucius kissed him, putting the force of the emotions that welled up behind the action. Severus stilled, and then began exploring Lucius' body, his hands repeating his question as they coursed over Lucius' skin. Lucius brought his hand to Severus' cloth covered cock, brushing his palm across the tip of it before he took the shaft in his fist, pumping it until Severus moaned. Lucius lifted the nightshirt the man wore, ridiculous old-fashioned thing. Even Abraxas Malfoy had given them up before his hastened death. Lucius resolved to buy Severus pajamas sometime, though cotton, not silk. The softest thing he wanted touching Severus' body was Lucius' own. He lifted the shirt past Severus' pale chest, bringing his lips into play as he seized a taut nipple between them, sucking at it, then nipping.

Severus hissed, "Luciusss, pleassse..."

Lucius positioned himself over Severus, engulfing the dark man with ease. Severus made love to him sweetly, his caresses and kisses filling the gaping chasm that had been in Lucius' heart for so long. Severus completed him as no other person had. It seemed like hours before they both reached culmination. They had made love as they never had in their youth, without the desperation and fear, without the ticking clock. As Lucius lay sated in Severus' arms afterwards he said, "You were my first in one thing too, Severus."

His shy admission garnered a kiss to Lucius' temple. Severus' husky baritone rumbled against Lucius ear as he asked, his tone bemused, "I was?"

"Yes." Lucius felt his eyes drift closed as Severus' breathing deepened. Lucius whispered against his lover's chest, "You were my first love."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading. Please take time to let me know what you think.


	9. Home Again

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lucius finds Severus.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to Jilliane for her valiant red-mousing of this chapter.

In the half-life that Lucius had lived for the entirety of his existence, to see Severus and yet know that he still could not have him was beyond agonising. Lucius spent the first weeks of his recovery inside the little room, communicating sullenly with the girl, whose name was Eir. She proudly told Lucius she was named after the the healing goddess in old Norse, all said with the lisp of a child who had just lost two milk teeth in a short period of time. She and Man had become fast friends, and the dog followed her wherever she went, only returning to sleep a Lucius' feet at night. It seemed that Lucius had lost even his animal to the Snape family.

When Severus entered the room to administer potions, Lucius turned from him, feigning sleep, using his bitter disappointment as a shield against the man's presence. He knew that his reaction was not right, not the adult way of handling his emotions, but it was what it was. Lucius had spent years in the bosom of a loving family. He had had a son and a wife for the majority of his adulthood. Shouldn't he have afforded Severus the same comforts? The resounding answer in Lucius' heart was no. He'd had to sacrifice his happiness for them as much as Severus had sacrificed his happiness for Evans.

It could never be said that Lucius was a fair man.

In the ledger of his life, his own system of checks and balances, Lucius had paid for Severus. He had given his heart, soul, and bloody body to have the last part of his life with the one person who had understood him. The one person who had never given a damn what Lucius could give him in the commerce of his social position, instead giving to Lucius what he needed. And now, he had to watch Severus live the life Lucius had wanted to give him. 

Lucius was in bed for a fortnight, too weak to move. Each time Severus attempted to talk to him, Lucius turned away, feigned sleep, or merely stared straight ahead. When the time came for him to rise, he went only as far as the chair in the corner of the drab little room. Eir quit trying to speak to him, instead looking at him with a mournful countenance and knowing eyes. Her expression was well older than her seven or so years. Severus merely scowled and groused at him, and went about taking care of Lucius in his own inimical way.

Lucius never saw the silver-haired woman again. She had never shown any interest in her unexpected house guest and Lucius never expressed an interest in seeing her. It was a a social blunder that he did not mean to rectify. He did not wish to see the woman that had stolen Snape ( His!) from him. 

His fourth week brought Severus to his room, all scowls and coldness, the type he had reserved for his snakes during his tenure as Head of Slytherin. "Lucius, this attitude of yours is not becoming. It is time you came out of this room and joined us for at least meals."

Lucius turned from him, deciding that if he ignored the man, he would go away. Severus did not. He knelt in front of Lucius, taking his hand in his own. "I know you think all is lost... but it's not. Please, Lucius, let's just talk."

Lucius felt an embarrassing rush of tears and bit his tongue to keep from shedding them. He would not disgrace himself. "You married."

"Yes," Severus answered, the simple, brutal answer tearing at Lucius heart, cutting the battered flesh with the words. 

Lucius nodded and then sneered as best he could, "I suppose you love her?"

"It's complicated." Severus' scowl deepened but his rasping voice softened, "Come out, Lucius. When you are ready, we will speak."

Lucius did come out, first sitting by the fire, and then venturing outside the confines of the cottage, but he did not speak. Instead, he occupied himself with the potions texts that sat in floor to ceiling shelves. The woman was never in attendance, and he breathed easier without her presence. Severus remained cool but solicitous, ever the gracious host with the materials he had available in the small cottage by the sea. He attempted to speak to Lucius time and again, but was rebuffed. He finally retreated to his own version of hurt feelings, with snapping and vicious digs. Lucius acted as if the comments slid off of him, did not hurt him, but each cross word spoken left a scar on his shattered heart.

Lucius found that his boat had weathered the storm that had brought him to the island. Severus had moved the motor to an outbuilding and turned the skiff over next to his own sailboat, on the small sandy beach. Lucius inspected it, releasing the spells that had made it seaworthy, planning his end. 

Man had followed him to the shore, curious about his master's work, sniffing for dormant mussels, bringing back great strings of kelp, and chasing terns. Lucius sat at the beach, watching the sea's churning as the sun sank low in the sky. The bitter tears that had clogged his throat so painfully the last four weeks, making breathing nearly impossible, fell then and Man butted up against him, lending him his warmth and his furry comfort. 

Lucius did not return that night to the dwelling, and paid for it the next day with a rasping cough and blocked lungs. Severus was in a towering rage when he discovered Lucius on the beach at sunrise. It was the first time he had turned his wrath on Lucius in years.

&*&*&

Severus bundled him off to bed, and then sat in the room as Lucius alternately shivered and burned with a renewed fever. The man began by uttering muffled oaths as he Accio'ed Pepper Up and fever reducing potion. Lucius swallowed the potions, spluttering and pulling a face at their combined tastes. Severus merely left, returning with another vial of thick, red syrup. "It's for your cough. Drink it, you bloody imbecile. Though I don't know why I'm trying."

Lucius drank the potion down in two swallows, stopping to cough weakly between the first and the second portion. When he was through, Severus jerked the bottle from his weak grasp and threw it against the wall. It shattered wetly, leaving a patch on the plaster that looked like blood. "I want to know what you expected when you came here, looking for me after... I take it Narcissa has asked for a divorce, and so you've come running to me to pick up the emotional pieces as I've always done with you."

Lucius turned away only to feel Severus lean over him, the dark man's hands on either side of his head. He loomed over Lucius, and as he spoke, his breath stirred the fine hairs on the older man's face. "I am sick to death of being the last resort, Lucius."

"You... are my only..." Lucius bit off his words, his voice sounding as broken as his heart. "When it was reported that you had died... I couldn't believe..."

Severus sat back suddenly, his face a mask of shock. He laughed, a brittle sound that crashed and clattered against Lucius' buzzing ears. "Dead? I thought... All these years I assumed... she said she had told the Aurors..." he ended the stuttering series ineffectually with, "I don't take the Prophet anymore."

Severus covered his face with his hands. Lucius watched as his shoulders hunched and he assumed the shape of the ugly little boy that he had been all those years ago. Love swelled in Lucius' heart, with the same knife-like intensity it had in their youths. He suppressed a croupy cough and found that whatever Severus' emotional state, he was still as much a bastard as he had always been. That fact made Lucius warm to him more than if Severus had used kind words and soft caresses. It was familiar. He fixed Lucius with his black gaze, making him feel like a crawling insect. "So, how is the family, Lucius?"

"Draco is married, and I wasn't invited to attend the nuptials," he said. "Narcissa died in June, and I wish I had gone with her."

Severus recoiled as if slapped and then rose, his face white. He strode out of the room without a backwards glance. Lucius did not see him the rest of the day.

&*&*&

In the end, it was the girl who told Lucius the story of her parents. It seemed that the only way a Prince could produce magical offspring was to take a Selkie to wife or to husband. The girl was proud of her Selkie blood and her eyes glinted as she said it, their dark surface so like her father's. She related to Lucius that a long time ago, before Eir was even born, Great-grandfather Prince had died, leaving instructions to his only grandchild ("Da said he hated him"), that he would replenish the Princes on the island. He was to return and be tied to the land, or the land would die. Severus had complied in his own way, marrying his silver-haired Selkie bride and creating Eir, before returning to his duties. He had sickened then, during his time away, but continued his tooth and nails fight against 'the bad man' (whose name Eir always forgot) by force of will alone. When the war ended, the Selkie-bride had taken her dying husband from the Shrieking Shack, having given some of her own magic to save him, and returned to the island. Eir's mother had been dying from lack of contact with her own kind when Lucius showed up on shore, but miraculously got better when her Selkie skin washed up with him. The girl said, in a tone of the gravest confidence, that her mummy had returned to her family in the sea, and that she wasn't to be sad. Especially now that Father was happy and Man had come to their island. Lucius too, she said, after a moment's consideration.

Eir told the story of her parents as if it were an oft-repeated fairytale, charming Lucius with the narrative, even as he realised that it changed little and everything all at once. It was as if the story had somehow encompassed him, and he could not help to wonder how the skin had washed up with him. He had read that Selkies kept their skins close by so that they would not endanger their lives.

The girl had crawled up on the bed during the telling, nestling in Lucius' arms as if she had a right to do so, and he didn't have the strength of will to push her away. She felt right in his arms, half-sprawled on the bed, her stockinged feet tucked under her woollen robes. He fell asleep as she babbled on about her day, Man's antics, and her studies. 

Lucius woke to a cramping arm and a sticky child clinging to him. Severus stood in the doorway, his shirtsleeves rolled to the elbows, the twin of Lucius' own scar exposed. His expression gelled into the more familiar cautious disdain that he usually wore as he noticed Lucius looking back at him. "I thought the girl might be bothering you."

"No," Lucius answered in a low voice. "She told me some interesting stories today."

Severus crossed his arms over his chest. "Should I be concerned?"

"Should I?" Lucius returned, not able to meet Severus' intense gaze. 

In two strides, Severus traversed the room and claimed Lucius' mouth in a searing kiss, his mouth rough and hard in the taking. Eir stirred, and Severus broke their contact. He traced his stained fingers over Lucius' mouth, his touch almost reverent. "God's I've wanted to do that for so long, at least since you washed up on shore."

Lucius gave a shaky laugh. "It's been longer for me. I am older than you, you know."

"Da?" Eir said, stretching like a kitten, her pink lips forming a perfect 'O' as she yawned. She hugged Lucius before slipping from the bed. "I like Mr. Malfoy, can he stay with us?"

"I've left my old life behind. Draco will inherit if I don't return in a year. I will be presumed dead." Severus hesitated as he looked over his daughter's head to Lucius. Malfoy smiled as innocently as he could. "You don't want to disappoint the girl, Severus."

Severus quirked his brow in question, but then gave a swift, almost imperceptible nod, his eyes on Lucius'. "We shall see, Eir. If Lucius wants to remain with us, he is certainly welcome. Unless he wishes to carry out his more final plans." Severus' eyes shuttered for a moment, glinting with dark light. Lucius looked away, but took Severus' hand in his. Snape turned his attention to his daughter, saying, "Now, go wash up. Dinner is ready."

&*&*&

They spent weeks getting to know each other again, exchanging details that had had to go unsaid between them during the war. Every moment was an exploration of their desire as they resisted giving into the physical side of their relationship. They had both been wounded by one another over the years and had never had the time to explore each other properly. It seemed like a honeymoon to them both, though they did not make love in that time. Instead, their caresses became a contest, a titillating game to see which lover would beg for the other first. Lucius spent most of his nights in an agonising state of arousal, and Severus , he suspected, was in much the same state. 

There was much work to complete on the island. Kelp had to be gathered and dried for sale to the potions market in England, and for to fuel the house in the winter.

One evening as they lay abed, after a day of kelp gathering, Severus asked, "Were you disappointed that I fought against the Dark Lord?"

"No," Lucius answered after some consideration. "I was glad. It meant that I had not ruined the best that was in you."

Severus, who held Lucius in his arms, gave a ghost of a smile in the gloom. "You ruined me long before I became a Death Eater, Lucius. I knew on some level, even as a first year, that you pursued me. I grew up in a neighbourhood where more predatory relationships between older and younger boys were condoned. It was the price of protection for the younger boys."

"Were you ever used like that?" Lucius felt a hot rush of hatred at the thought.

Severus gave a husky deprecating laugh, "No. You were my first, Lucius in all things. I never understood what you saw in me."

Lucius remained silent. How could he tell this dark, homely man that he was Lucius' world and make Severus believe it? How did one put that into words without sounding maudlin and overwrought? Instead Lucius kissed him, putting the force of the emotions that welled up behind the action. Severus stilled, and then began exploring Lucius' body, his hands repeating his question as they coursed over Lucius' skin. Lucius brought his hand to Severus' cloth covered cock, brushing his palm across the tip of it before he took the shaft in his fist, pumping it until Severus moaned. Lucius lifted the nightshirt the man wore, ridiculous old-fashioned thing. Even Abraxas Malfoy had given them up before his hastened death. Lucius resolved to buy Severus pajamas sometime, though cotton, not silk. The softest thing he wanted touching Severus' body was Lucius' own. He lifted the shirt past Severus' pale chest, bringing his lips into play as he seized a taut nipple between them, sucking at it, then nipping.

Severus hissed, "Luciusss, pleassse..."

Lucius positioned himself over Severus, engulfing the dark man with ease. Severus made love to him sweetly, his caresses and kisses filling the gaping chasm that had been in Lucius' heart for so long. Severus completed him as no other person had. It seemed like hours before they both reached culmination. They had made love as they never had in their youth, without the desperation and fear, without the ticking clock. As Lucius lay sated in Severus' arms afterwards he said, "You were my first in one thing too, Severus."

His shy admission garnered a kiss to Lucius' temple. Severus' husky baritone rumbled against Lucius ear as he asked, his tone bemused, "I was?"

"Yes." Lucius felt his eyes drift closed as Severus' breathing deepened. Lucius whispered against his lover's chest, "You were my first love."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading. Please take time to let me know what you think.


	10. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What can I say? It's an epilogue.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was red-moused by Jilliane.

Lucius was content in his life, but still not whole.

Over the next years, the three settled into a routine. It became Lucius' duty to teach Eir whilst Severus made their living gathering potions ingredients and brewing for the few wizards that had settled on the islands further north. Both Fair Isle and the Shetlands held a rather large number of wizards that had fled the United Kingdom during the war and continued to shun contact with the lowlands. Many had never returned, preferring to raise their families away from the politics of the south, and amongst the very active Elven community that still ruled those islands. 

Lucius found that he liked teaching, and began holding classes in their home for the children that would be attending Hogwarts in the near future. At first he took no compensation for the service, but as Severus rightly pointed out, he no longer had the accursed Malfoy wealth with which to sustain himself. Lucius accepted barter, and became the proud owner of a flock of chickens, the rights to use a fishing trawler at least one week of the fishing season, and a rather concupiscent swine who made Man's existence painful, as she squealed lustfully whenever the canine entered her field of vision. Man remained impassive to her less than welcome attentions, but the swine continued to pine for her canine love. Lucius thought, with a smirk, that several of the wizarding folk of the surrounding isles might have made the same observations about the inequality of looks between Lucius and Severus, had the two not become so indespensible to their well-being. Severus, it seemed, was something of a hedge-wizard and had learned the ancient art of midwifery to augment their somewhat limited income. Many children from the islands bore any number of variations on the name Severus. 

Lucius began correspondence with the old Muggle who had shown him such kindness during his stay in Whitehall. She became something of a Yule fixture, and a grandmother figure to Eir. Even Severus unbent in her presence, as she complimented him on his home and the care he took of his daughter.

The other member of their strange family could be seen basking on the rocks of the island. 

The Selkie watched Eir and Severus with an intensity that gave Lucius pause more than once. He remained stoic in her presence, but felt strangely protective and jealous of his lover when she was around. Severus, on more than one occasion, had to take him to task for his jealousy. He assured the older man that his days with the Selkie were over. Lucius was still wary, but he accepted that the fae creature may have merely wanted to ensure her offspring was growing well, rather than pining for her dark mate. It didn't matter much either way, Lucius still hated her for the gift she had been able to give Severus, his daughter. It had been the one thing that Lucius would have never been able to give him, no matter his wealth.

And then, suddenly, it seemed it was time for Eir to leave the island and go to Hogwarts. Lucius had never noticed her growth from pudgy child to coltish young woman, and it pained him when her eleventh birthday came along. Both men knew that their idyll was at an end. Both Severus and Lucius spent their time in mournful preparation as they planned their trip to Diagon Alley to gather her supplies. They were sure to cause a sensation with their resurrection. 

The day of their trip, they took the skiff, loaded with their shrunken baggage, to Kirkwall, and then from there they moved on to Aberdeen. Lucius' mind turned to Will and his family, but he was distracted from his morose thoughts by Eir's enthusiasm for her first trip to Diagon Alley. She spoke nonstop about the familiar she intended to buy with her savings, a considerable amount due to the kindness of the old Muggle and her insistence on donating to Eir's dowry.

It was just Lucius' damnable luck that they ran into Draco on their second day in London. The day before had been trying enough as various shrieks of fear and joy could be heard through out Diagon Alley at their appearance. It was after a particularly heated discussion between the two men that Eir had chosen to eat breakfast in the Leaky Cauldron so that they might be closer to her chosen familiar, a Crup that had been abandoned by its former owner. Lucius was not sure about the desirability of this animal. They were nothing more than magical dogs, and his impression of that breed lent him the idea that they might be rather mischievous, naughty even. He was not sure that Eir needed any more help in that department. Severus, of course, had caved into her demands. He could refuse the girl nothing.

As they made their orders to Tom's frowsy-haired daughter, a hand fell on Lucius' shoulder. It was a testament to Lucius' self control that he did not hex the miscreant before he turned to see who it might be that had accosted him. His gaze rose from the Auror's robes to the eyes of his son. Draco merely said with a tightly controlled voice, "Father, I was under the impression that you had died."

Lucius gave a warning wave of his hand to Severus as the dark man shifted to rise. Severus stayed seated, but remained vigilant. Lucius drawled, "I thought you would appreciate the gesture, Mr. Malfoy. Surely you and your lovely wife needed a home."

"Yes." Draco had the grace to look away, his jaws working, grinding his emotions to paste. "May I?" He drew a chair from the long table at which they sat and Lucius inclined his head in assent. Once seated, Draco said, "I'm sorry... for what I said to you... for not... being there when you needed me... I wish..."

"Enough," Lucius said, his voice harsh and cutting. "I have no use for your contrition, and you are upsetting my family."

"I see." Draco's form seemed to collapse at the words. "Forgive me for intruding." His red-rimmed eyes sought Severus' as he stood. "It's nice to see that you are alive as well, Sir. Please, take care..."

And suddenly, Lucius saw the boy in the bitter man as Draco turned on his heel. Severus hissed something, but Lucius was already on his feet, his arms were already reaching to his son, ready to heal the pains that they had both inflicted over the years. "Dragon."

That was the only word he spoke as Draco accepted his embrace. It was not the only thing he needed to say, but there would be time enough for recrimination and fighting later. Lucius knew there would be, but at this moment, when all of his past and all of his future came together, he would settle for his son's soft sobs, and the support of the dark man and his daughter behind him.

Finally, Lucius was whole.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading. Please take the time to let me know what you think.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to Jilliane for her hard work in making this story readable.


End file.
